Stranded
by Williamson M. Scott
Summary: Brotherhood AU: This tale starts in 1983 with Caleb Reaves. The son of Mackland Ames and future Knight of the Brotherhood started out in big trouble. This is his story.
1. Trouble

**Title:** Stranded (Brotherhood AU)

**Author:** Will Scott

**Rating: **T- **harsh language**

**Disclaimer:** Mackland Ames, Caleb Reaves, nor Bird Isbell belong to me. They are being borrowed with permission from my best bud, Ridley. The others mentioned in this story are creations of Eric Kripke and copyrighted by The CW and Warner Bros.

**A/N:** A few weeks ago or months, I'm not sure anymore, Ridley and I were discussing her Brotherhood. Specifically, Caleb and his relationship to Mac. I told her that I would love to see how the two ended up together. Well, that was an unfortunate slip on my part, when out of her mouth these words flew: "Why don't you write it?" Well, I said, 'why don't I', and here it is. It is a work in progress. Hopefully, not a long WIP. g Anyway, with extreme thanks to the creator of these great characters, I am here to present to you the back story of Caleb Reaves and Mackland Ames meeting and eventual family relationship. I hope I do it justice, Rid. Mistakes are all mine.

**A/N/N:** Reviews are always welcomed and appreciated. Flames- I take out on my students.

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_He felt that his whole life was some kind of dream_

_and he sometimes wondered_

_whose it was and _

_whether they were enjoying it._

**"The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy"- Douglas Adams (1952 - 2001)**

_November 1, 1983_

"...therapeutic foster home." The dark haired youth snorted, garnering a disapproving glare from Juvenile Court Judge Maria Baker. She was not impressed with the black dressed, bad attitude teen facing her. She was even more unimpressed with his recent behavior. "Your little drunk and disorderly is not acceptable."

"Don't forget pissing on the police officer's nice and shiny car door." Caleb Reaves had a self-satisfied smirk plastered across his face. The eyebrows of the 50ish year old judge dropped dangerously, but the youth seemed impervious to the lurking doom. "Opie Taylor, I'm not."

"Young man," Baker drew in a deep breath before continuing. "You have been warned on several occasions, but I'm afraid this was the last chance. After your recent incident, you were evaluated and the preliminary report is not promising." The judge flipped through the thick folder. "Oppositional Defiant- Conduct Disorder. It seems you don't get along with authority figures or much of anyone else for that matter."

"Tell me something I don't know." A sharp thwack of the gavel told Caleb his muttered response had been overheard.

"You will listen and listen well, Mr. Reaves." The judge leaned over the podium, coming almost eye level with Caleb. "You will give nothing but respect to Mr. and Mrs. Johnson. You will stay with them for the next two months, and at the end of that time, you will return here for another evaluation. If I feel you have **reformed**..." the venom dripped from the word. "I will consider returning you to Ms. Isbell's care. The alternative will be placement in a suitable institution."

A slight nod from the youth satisfied the magistrate. "I'm glad you understand."

Caleb watched as Bird stepped forward and tried once again to plead with Judge Baker, but the woman shook her head and then motioned toward the bailiff.

A hand suddenly grasped Reaves shoulder, eliciting a sudden and violent reaction in the teen. "What the fu..." a face full of muscular chest and tie prevented Caleb's completion of thought and action.

"Well... well... Mr. Reaves... we meet again." The deep resounding voice rang throughout the small courtroom.

"Well, shit." The youth shook his head in disgust, looking up into the eyes of the 6'6" African American Child Services Enforcer, Abraham Sullivan. Reaves had the unfortunate luck of meeting Abe the first time he ran away from Bird. It had only been a few days after his Grandma Ruth had died and his knack for finding trouble had landed him the introduction.

"Abe, my man, what brings you by?" A slow smile inched its way across the tall man's face.

"Caleb. It seems you went and pissed..." the boy groaned at the pun. "Off the wrong people." The case worker had seen too many cases like the Reaves boy. Good kids, terrible circumstances, usually equaled a troubled youth, if not a horrific adulthood.

"Look, Abe..." Reaves stepped back from the mountain of a man, shaking loose from his grip. "I appreciate the personal attention, but back off, dude." He turned away only to find an unfamiliar man and woman in their mid-thirties heading his way.

He stopped, trying to make himself appear intimidating, and waited. They both halted a couple of feet from the angered teen, apparently aware of the hostility.

"What the fuck do you want?"

Baker heard the aggravated response and a crimson stain splashed across her hard features. "MR. REAVES!" The yell bounced heavily against the walls.

A heavy clamp of two hands on Caleb's shoulders indicated that the giant behind him was not amused either. "You just don't know when to quit, do you son?"

Another immediate reaction had the teen whirling around, slipping from Sullivan's grip and facing off against the man.

"Listen, jackass. You're not my dad." Reaves slapped Sullivan's hands away as they tried again to reach for him. "Keep your fucking hands off me."

The bailiffs were approaching the two from the side, sensing the kid was about to make a break for it.

"Caleb?" The soft, gravelly voice drifted towards the poised runner. Reaves slowly turned his head and found Birdell looking pleadingly at him.

She had been the one constant in his life since the death of Ruth Chaille, his grandmother, who had begged Isbell to raise the orphan if the worst should happen to her. The youth's shoulders sagged, the fight or flight going out of him.

"Okay, Caleb." Abe patted him a couple of times on the back and then moved away, telling Reaves he was sorry about earlier.

The judge cleared her throat, attracting everyone's attention. She glanced down and then back towards the waiting group. "Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, I will completely understand if you choose not to take Mr. Reaves."

Caleb looked from Judge Baker to Bird and then swung his gaze to the Johnsons. He saw the doubt cross Mr. Johnson's face and knew he's in more trouble, but as Mrs. Johnson placed a hand on her husband's shoulder, he felt some hope.

"Thank you Judge, but I don't think that will be necessary." She stepped confidently up to Reaves and smiled. "We'll be fine."

TBC...

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1/19/07 


	2. Doubt

See Part 1 for Disclaimers- All mistakes are mine.

_A mind troubled by doubt cannot focus on the course to victory. _

**Arthur Golden- Memoirs of a Geisha**

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The car drive took about 20 minutes from the county courthouse. The Queens side of New York City was lined with 1920s brownstone homes and street parked cars ranging from old, beat up Fords to the latest models of BMW.

Caleb watched the passing scenery, taking everything in for the first time. Bird's small apartment sat over top a herb/remedy shop near Chinatown. Which, by the looks of the immediate area, was the equivalent of being on opposite sides of the world.

Caleb's attention was drawn to 11283 Forest Avenue as Mr. Johnson parked his 1979 Mercedes. The building was two stories high, with a stoop big enough to fit at least 20 people. As Reaves reluctantly stepped from the car, he heard the sound of the downtown M train somewhere nearby. A noise he immediately categorized in his mind for later use.

Lewis Johnson had opened the front door and turned to watch the silent young man standing next to his car. In the late afternoon light, Caleb looked nothing like the troubled youth they had recently encountered in juvenile court. His furrowed brows and grim lined mouth gave him the look of a lost and cornered animal.

"Martha, why don't you go and show Caleb his room while I light the grill."

Mrs. Johnson, who had been standing quietly next to Reaves, smiled and reached out to take the youth's shoulder, only to be met with empty air. Caleb had woken from his momentary stupor the minute Mr. Johnson had spoken. He was half way up the stoop, never once glancing back to see if Martha was following.

He entered the foyer of the brownstone, not giving the surrounding decor much of a glance. He was more interested in scoping out the exits of this prison. He saw a living area and kitchen took up most of the downstairs area. A short flight of about 20 steps went up the right hand side of the wall leading to the second landing.

He sensed Mrs. Johnson behind him moments before she spoke. "Your room is on the second floor. I'll take you up there so you can drop off your duffel and get settled." Martha waited for some type of acknowledgment from Caleb, but not even a blink of response. "Okay, here we go."

She started upstairs hoping the young man was following and a quick look over her shoulder verified her hope. Reaves was about two steps behind her with his head held slightly down, avoiding any kind of contact with his surroundings.

The second room to the left of the stairwell was where Martha stopped and waited for Caleb. When he halted next to the door, she turned the knob and pushed it open to reveal a well furnished room any boy would adore. Along each wall were posters of all the great sports superstars, mixed with a few rock bands of the seventies.

Lynyrd Skynyrd and Led Zeppelin actually caught Caleb's attention, but only for a second. He quickly shut down any emotion that may have betrayed him.

He stepped into the room, tossing his duffel full of clothes onto the floor next to the window. He then turned and for the first time, spoke.

"Where's the head?" Reaves slouched his shoulders, ramming his hands into his jeans pockets.

Mrs. Johnson allowed a brief gasp to escape before covering her shock with a slight smile. "The bathroom is in between your room and ours. It's right across from the stairway." Martha waited for Caleb to say more, but the stare reflecting back at her made her somewhat nervous. "Okay." She turned from the open doorway but stopped suddenly. "Lewis will have supper ready in about 30 minutes. I'll call you." And then she was gone, leaving Reaves standing in the middle of a strange room, staring into an empty doorway.

As soon as Mrs. Johnson's footsteps disappeared completely from Caleb's hearing, the youth let the facade drop and the total terror of his situation flowed across his face.

A totally foreign house, people he had just met minutes ago around him, made Reaves shiver uncontrollably. His life had been a major roller coaster since his parents died and it seemed the ride was far from over.

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Mr. Johnson's steak and potato supper wasn't bad, but just to make sure the couple got the message, Caleb only ate enough to satisfy his growling stomach. He had then shoved the plate away, got up from the table, and hid the rest of the evening in 'his' room.

He heard the man and woman each come to a stop outside of his closed door in the past few hours, but neither had knocked. Which satisfied Reaves. He was stretched across the bed trying to figure out his next step for escape.

He knew if he was caught the juvie detention center would be his final resting place until he was eighteen, if he was lucky. As he contemplated his coming Houdini maneuver, the day's events took their toll, lulling Caleb into a deep sleep.

_The room looked nothing like he knew. It had been light and vibrant a few hours ago, but now it was dark and gloomy, as if a lull of danger lurked in every corner. Caleb could see the living area and kitchen of the brownstone, but they seemed wrong._

_He felt himself going up the stairs but couldn't remember leaving his room. The stairs seemed longer than normal, as if he was moving in slow motion. He tried to glance down at himself, but for some reason he couldn't. As he reached the top landing, he turned away from his room and toward the master bedroom to the right of the stairs. _

_He saw the door directly in front of him, but was unsure what to do or rather what he was doing. He saw his left-hand reach out and grasp the doorknob, turning it and then push the door open, revealing a king-sized bed dead center. Everything else appeared to blur and Caleb was unable to make out any descriptions. He did notice a light illuminating from somewhere to his right, but it seemed his focus was on the bed and the bed alone._

_He walked up to the side and looked down into the sleeping face of Martha Johnson. She was curled on her left side and seemed to be in a deep sleep. She didn't even flinch as he reached out and pushed a stray hair behind her right ear. _

_He heard himself say something, but as with his eyesight, his hearing seemed to be muffled and unrecognizable. He saw his right-hand raise slightly, and a glint of metal caught his attention. The light he had identified earlier was allowing him the opportunity to see an outline of a butcher knife clasped firmly in grasp. It was the same knife he had seen Mr. Johnson use to cut the fat from the steaks earlier. The hand didn't stop its rise until Caleb knew it was poised just above his head. Before he had the chance to think about what was going to happen, the knife descended in quick action, forcing the object in Martha Johnson's neck. _

_He could feel blood splattering him, but the hand was moving yet again. It raised and then plunged into the now exposed chest of the woman. Caleb looked at her face and could see her mouth was open, screaming without sound. The knife plunged once more into her chest, this time sinking so far the hand couldn't remove it. _

_He released the embedded weapon and stepped back from the bed, watching the blood seep from the neck, chest, and mouth of Martha. He let his watchful eye pause on the lips, which were moving with purpose. Centering his attention and senses on just her mouth, he finally made out what was being said. _

_"Why?"_

Caleb could hear himself screaming and as he jerked his eyes open, saw he was entangled in a quilt, sitting on the Johnson's floor. He felt sweat fall into his eyes and his lungs were doing double time, trying to take in much needed air.

"A...dream..." Reaves muttered to the empty room. "What the fu..." he raked a shaking hand through his damp hair, then began to pull at the cover. He needed to get up and on the move before his late night caterwaul woke the sleeping couple.

This thought brought his gaze to the alarm clock sitting on the night stand. Luckily, there was enough moonlight coming through the window to let him see the time: 2:45 AM.

"I'm telling you, Bird, I need to get out of this place." Caleb fidgeted with the phone cord, while he kept glancing toward the kitchen door. He figured if his recent screaming hadn't raised suspicion then he would be safe using the phone downstairs. But, Reaves wasn't one to take chances.

He heard the woman say something about it just being a bad dream, but he knew better. It didn't feel like a dream. It felt real and if it was real, he was going to do something he would regret.

"Listen, damnit..." Caleb stopped his impending tirade when he heard a door open and then shut upstairs. "I'll see you tomorrow." He quickly hung up the phone and rushed over to the fridge, grabbing the first thing he could find.

The kitchen door swung open to reveal Lewis, dressed in his bathrobe and wiping at his sleep filled eyes. He stopped short when he saw Reaves staring at him from in front of the opened refrigerator.

"Oh, hello Caleb." Mr. Johnson let a smile grace his lips and then stepped around Caleb to reach for a glass in the cabinet. "Would you like a glass for your milk?"

It was then Caleb realized he had grasped the milk jar and was drinking it straight. He quickly wiped the white mustache from his guilty face and thrust the jar toward Lewis.

"Naw, it tastes better this way." Reaves didn't wait for a reply, as he rushed from the kitchen with only one thought going through his mind. Run.

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"I don't care what you think, Jim. I'm telling you, you need to get to New York City now." Missouri Mosley sighed, replaying the recent vision through her head. The headline of the New York Times newspaper ran on a continuous loop now.

It had stated a local teenager had been found guilty for the murders of his foster parents, then committed suicide. But, it wasn't that information which had Missouri's attention. It was the 'psychic' call she had heard after her vision. It had been faint but very frightened and determined. Whether Caleb Reaves knew it or not, he had sent out a plea for help to the Kansas state psychic.

"I told you already, Jim. This boy is important and needs our help." Mosley tapped her fingers against the table as she listened to Pastor Jim Murphy try to appease her. "I don't care if it's the witching hour. This boy needs us, Jim. End of story."

She heard the long sigh across the phone line and knew she had once again gotten her way. "Think of it this way. It'll be good for you to get into the city, and the perfect opportunity to make Mackland Ames earn his keep in the Brotherhood."

Missouri placed the receiver back in the cradle replaying Jim's response from her recent crack against the neurosurgeon. Mac had been a part of the Brotherhood for a few years now, but still kept himself apart from the group. For some reason, Missouri knew that was about to change.

"Hang on, my boy. Help is on its way."

TBC...


	3. Courage

See part 1 for disclaimers.

**A/N: **I want to apologize for my recent mistakes in part 2. I know they were minor details, but I received several emails and wanted to make it clear for everyone. This next part is small, but I'm trying to keep the story flowing. Thanks to all of you for the feedback and encouragement. Mistakes are all mine.

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_Courage is the art of being the only one who knows you're scared to death._

**Harold Wilson (1916 - 1995)**

_November 2, 1983_

Caleb had been staring out the window for almost four hours. Since his early morning interruption, he hadn't been able to let his eyes close. All he knew was that he had to get out of this house and far away from these people.

"Caleb," a soft knock on the bedroom door had Reaves jumping to his feet. "Are you up?"

The teen knew Martha was waiting for a response of some kind. The table lamp had to have given away his shadow, so she knew he was up.

"Uh, yeah." Caleb stepped over to the door, took a deep breath, and pulled it open.

Mrs. Johnson's vibrant face was quickly replaced by the blood splattered, terrorized image from last night. Reaves's breath hitched and he had to stop himself from grabbing his stuff and running out the door.

She must have noticed his hesitancy and moved closer to him. "Are you feeling alright?" She reached out to place a hand on his brow, but Caleb's quick reflexes had him ducking and spinning away from her.

He maneuvered himself to the end of the bed, well away from her proximity. "Keep the hell away, lady." He crossed his arms and once more was the irritant teenager from the day before.

Martha sadly nodded, knowing the brief reprieve was over. "Well, I came to see if you wanted to join me this morning."

Caleb checked his expression to make sure he didn't give away his excitement. Getting out of the house had been his biggest obstacle thus far, but now she was granting him a wish come true.

"I don't know." Reaves had to play it cool. "Where ya going?" He sank down onto the edge of the bed, trying to appear disinterested.

"Oh, I need to go to the grocery and then to the dry cleaners." She smiled hopefully when a negative response wasn't returned. "They're both in the city and I figured this might be a good chance for you to see more of New York." Mrs. Johnson knew Caleb had only been in the Big Apple for a few months.

After his grandmother's death, Caleb had returned with Bird from New Orleans to her hometown of New York. Something the youth had vehemently objected at first.

"What's the big damn deal?" Caleb jumped up, startling Martha back a few steps. The reaction made Reaves pause, a fleeting memory of last night played through his mind. "It's just a freaking city."

Martha turned to leave the room, but stopped when a hand touched her shoulder briefly. She glanced back to find Caleb only a couple of feet from her.

"I guess I could handle getting out for a while."

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JFK airport was a bustling beehive of activity. Pastor Jim Murphy stared wide eyed at the mass of bodies around him. Not one person ever seemed to stop. He was getting a head spin at the activity. Thankfully, a familiar face appeared in his vision and distracted him from the chaos.

Mackland Ames's dress wasn't the expected for a Manhattan high scale individual. His clothes were a casual sweater and chinos with wool peacoat and leather driving gloves. Nothing flashy or eye-catching. It was all Mac.

"So, what did I do to deserve the personal attention?" Ames stopped in front of the clergyman, allowing a slight smirk to mark his smile.

Jim took the proffered hand in a firm shake between friends. "Not my idea, Mac. Missouri seems to think you're not earning your keep." The raised eyebrows and immediate frown on Ames's face caused Murphy to break out in laughter.

"I don't understand what that woman has against me." The neurosurgeon stuffed both hands in his pockets and breathed deeply. "I ..."

Jim held up a hand to stop the defensive tirade he knew was coming. "Hey, take it easy." Jim pulled Mac around and headed them toward the parking area. "In her defense, it was around 3 in the morning and she apparently was still feeling the effects from her vision." The pastor let Ames take the lead, not knowing the exact location of the car.

Mac reached the driver's side of the car and then turned to look across the roof at his friend. "I'm assuming this is a supernatural outing?" Ames watched Jim's face change from the jovial to somber in seconds.

"Yeah. According to Missouri, there's a 12 year old boy who needs our help." Murphy saw Mac's suspicion quickly peak, but he didn't voice it.

"What kind of help?"

"That my friend, I've yet to figure out." Jim smiled and then got into the waiting vehicle.

Ames stood contemplating what the pastor had just told him. He wasn't like the typical hunters in their world. He was more inclined to do research and stay away from contact with the others, but it seemed this time, he was going to have to be involved whether he liked it or not.

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"I'm sorry we had to take the M train, Caleb." Martha sat next to Reaves on the downtown railcar, flipping idly through a magazine she had just purchased at the market.

Caleb's attention was far from Mrs. Johnson. He had just noticed the sign for the next exit being the one closest to Chinatown. He was sitting on the outside of the seat with the groceries in between them. He used his foot to move his duffel closer to the aisle, grateful Martha hadn't said anything about him bringing it along. He knew he would need to move fast.

He vaguely heard Martha still talking to him but the train slowed to a stop and the doors started to open. Caleb grabbed his bag and made a mad dash through the doorway. He heard the woman scream his name, but thankfully the amount of people around him prevented her from immediately following.

He kept running along the train ramp, down the stairs and then ducked into the nearest alleyway. He found a dumpster near the entrance and slid behind it to wait. He tried to slow his breathing so he could hear what was going on around him.

He heard a long, shrill sound from a policeman's whistle, which Caleb knew meant Mrs. Johnson had alerted the cops. "Damn." Reaves dropped his head back against the brick wall. If he was caught...he didn't want to think about it. He was about to step from behind the trash bin, when a man's voice made him stop.

"The woman stated he was a foster kid and may try to head home to Chinatown. We've got a patrol car heading there now." The police officer's voice drifted away as the man moved out of Caleb's range.

The teen knew his plan was a bust. They would have Bird's place staked out long before he could get there. He had no idea what to do now. It was mid afternoon and he had no other place to go or person to turn.

After a few minutes of hard thought, Caleb finally emerged and took in his surroundings. All he could think about right now was staying as far away from Martha Johnson as possible and New York City offered plenty of places to hide.

TBC...


	4. Fate

See Part 1 for all disclaimers.

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting. My muse decided to take a brief vacation, but hopefully she's back for a while. Once again, thank you all for the great reviews and I'll try to be better with regular updates from now on. Mistakes are all mine.

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_Never to suffer would never to have been blessed. _

**Edgar Allan Poe (1809 - 1849) **

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The afternoon sun was sinking closer to dusk as Caleb made his way through the streets of Brooklyn. He had been trying to find a spot to hide for hours. Every time he would settle in a police car would roll by and he would have to make a fast getaway.

He was almost out of options. He knew if he was stuck in this part of town after dark, well, he didn't want to think about it. A neon blinking sign about a block up immediately caught his attention. Reaves quickly made his way there and heaved a sigh of relief.

No one would think to look for him in an Irish pub named Blarney. He ducked inside when the door swung open, letting a previous patron out, and moved to the back of the dark lit interior. He noticed there were only a few people inside at this time of day, which was good for him.

He settled into the back booth and slowly took in his surroundings. The place was smaller than it looked from the outside. A dart board hung in one of the corners and two heavy set guys were hitting targets everywhere but the board.

He let his gaze wander to the other two customers who sat drinking at the bar. They both looked to be old and nondescript. Nothing to worry about from them. Caleb then gave all his attention to the bartender.

The man had to be a giant. He stood well over 6 feet and was built like the NY Giants defensive line. Reaves let a shiver slip down his spine, knowing he didn't want a run in with this guy. When he was finished with his inspection, he was satisfied none had taken notice of his entrance or that he was there.

So with a long sigh, he sank lower into the booth seat and used his duffel as a pillow. He didn't intend on going to sleep, but the late night horror film hadn't allowed him any rest. Add on top of that his reenactment of **The Fugitive** and he was feeling the effects. With another wary glance around the room, Caleb drifted into sleep.

Rusty O'Shea watched silently from the bar as the kid disappeared into the booth. He had caught movement a few minutes ago and thought it was the stray cat sneaking in again. But, when a dark-haired youth slid into the back bench, he knew it was a stray of another kind.

"He finally settle down, Rusty?" A voice deep enough to rival James Earl Jones grabbed the barkeep's attention. He turned to stare at the grizzled man in front of him, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Why? You worried?" A snort was Rusty's only reply. "Yeah, the kid's down for the count."

"You gonna call them, or should I?" The patron raised his near empty shot glass, not bothering to give the back of the room a glance.

Rusty sighed and placed the clean glass underneath the bar. He knew the teenager was probably the one on the BOLO. Considering it wasn't every day he had kids seeking to hide in his place.

"Yeah. But I think there's someone else I need to call first." O'Shea quickly checked the back booth to make sure the kid had pulled a disappearing act, nodding to himself when the object of his gaze was still there and apparently sound asleep.

He turned to the phone behind him and began to dial the rotary with familiar ease. The number memorized from years ago. The ringing lasted for less than one full second when he heard the voice of an old friend.

"_Yeah?"_

"Such a nice greeting. Don't they frown on such things for civil servants?" Rusty heard a muttered curse, but ignored it.

"_I'm a little busy here, Irish, what do you need?" _

"I think I've got something you would be interested in."

"_Really, what would that be?"_

"Well, he looks to be about 12 and trying his damndest to hide from anybody and everybody..."

"_You got him now?" _O'Shea heard a set of car keys jangle against the phone and then a grunt.

"Yeah, he's taking a nap in one of the back booths."

Abe Sullivan stopped his contortionist routine of trying to put on a jacket and talking on the phone long enough to throw a quick prayer to whoever was listening. As soon as he had gotten the call this afternoon, he had been calling everyone he knew in the Brooklyn area, trying to get them to keep an eye out for the wayward youth.

Thankfully, Caleb's penchant for finding the most unobvious places for a boy his age was a blessing to Sullivan.

"You still there?" Abe stopped his wandering thoughts and refocused on the voice of victory.

"_Yeah. Just don't let him out of your sight, Rusty." _Sullivan didn't wait for a pleasant end to the conversation, he simply hung up the phone and all but ran to his car. He needed to get to Reaves before the police.

Judge Baker had been informed of the youth's rabbit run and she was not happy. She had alerted the police to remand Reaves to police custody and place him in detention until a hearing could be convened. Abe knew his only shot of keeping Caleb from juvenile hall until his was 18 was to grab him and then make him grovel and beg for the judge's forgiveness.

As Sullivan slammed the car door, he couldn't help but laugh at the thought. Caleb Reaves groveling and begging would be when hell froze over.

"I don't know what it is, kid, but there's something about you." Abe pulled out of the city parking garage, noticing the sun had sunk completely and the city was bathed in an ethereal light. It reminded Sullivan of those nights in the jungles of Vietnam when all looked calm on the surface but death lurked underneath.

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Mac stared at the man across from him. When they had arrived at his Park Avenue apartment, Jim had immediately begun wading through the dozen of newspapers he had bought at the corner newsstand and completely ignoring Ames.

"If I knew what you were looking for, I could help." The neurosurgeon leaned back in the straight back kitchen chair, sipping his now cold coffee.

Murphy softly grunted as he straightened from his slouched position. He had been reading so many news articles the letters were now running together. He rubbed his wearied eyes and finally looked at Mac.

A grim line etched his otherwise stoic face. Jim remembered the first time he had encountered his friend and couldn't help to compare it too now. The same determination from then was echoing now.

"I wish to God I knew, Mac." Jim picked up the coffee cup and took a drink, immediately regretting it. "Good Lord, that's awful." Murphy pushed the offending drink as far from him as possible.

Ames's lips twitched at the outburst. "It was fine earlier, when it was hot." Mac caught the grimace from the priest as his eyes glanced at the clock above the dining table.

"Sorry Mac. This wasn't exactly what I had in mind for this trip." Jim stood up and began to pace around the small dining area. "Missouri gave me a name and said to check the news and newspapers when I got here. So far, nothing." Murphy stopped and leaned on the back of the chair letting his gaze lock with Mac's.

"There's nothing in any of the papers and the times I've checked the news, nothing. How can a kid who's about to be accused of homicide not be mentioned in the news?" Jim ran a hand through his hair, wishing things could be easier.

Ames quickly stood, startling the priest.

"I don't know why we're getting involved but I may be able to find out something about the kid." Mac patted Jim on the shoulder as he passed him to reach the phone. The phone call was short and simple. Two minutes later, Ames turned to face Murphy and the grim line was gone, being replaced by a cross between despair and bewilderment.

Jim came to stand toe to toe with Mac. "What is it?"

Mac shook his head to clear it and then locked eyes with Jim. "Caleb Reaves ran away from his foster mother earlier this afternoon near Brooklyn. The cops have been looking for him since then."

Murphy couldn't understand what had the doctor so... off. He seemed almost scared. "What is it, Mac?" Jim reached out and squeezed his friend's arm.

A frown settled between Ames's eyes and then a stab of fear sliced through him, causing a sharp intake of breath to escape him. He closed his eyes but couldn't stop the feelings rolling over him. Somebody was in extreme pain and at the same time... scared to death.

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As soon as Abe opened the door, he knew there was a problem. There were two uniformed cops standing in front of him and he could hear a multitude of grunts and curses drifting from the back of the bar.

He pushed his way past the two officers and continued to the center of the commotion, afraid of what he would find. Sure enough, there in the middle was Caleb Reaves armed with a chair leg and madder than a wet hen. He was faced off against two more police, who had apparently tried to surround the youth to capture him.

From the disheveled appearance of the two, it didn't work.

Just as Caleb raised the wooden weapon to strike, Abe stepped forward and caught it in one hand, grabbing Reaves's arm in the other.

"Stop this now." Sullivan shook the teen slightly when he noticed the youth was trembling and had a look of abject terror across his face. "Caleb, you're okay." Abe lowered the chair leg to rest on the table still standing and then placed both hands on Reaves's shoulders, blocking out the rest of room with his body.

It took a few seconds but recognition finally crossed the youth's face.

"Abe?" Caleb's whisper was full of relief and sadness.

Sullivan couldn't understand what had possessed the boy to run away or become so violent with being found. Always before he had been almost smug with his conquests, but this time something was definitely wrong.

"It's okay, kid." The DCS officer patted Caleb's shoulder as he let his right hand drop, but never relinquished his hold on Reaves's left. He turned to look at the officer behind him, not liking the look of disgust adorning the servant's face in front of him.

"You wanna explain what's going on here?" At the silence he received, Abe raised to his full height and glared at the police sergeant. "Well?"

Sergeant Tooney cleared his throat and threw a 'keep your mouth shut' glance across to his partner. "Sir, we were trying to apprehend the teen and then take him back to the precinct to await for Judge Baker."

Abe snorted. "Apprehend? Sergeant, he's twelve years old, not a felon on the run." Sullivan shook his head, turning back to Caleb. "Get your stuff, kid and let's go."

"Excuse me, sir..." Tooney stepped forward and Abe felt Reaves tense beneath his hand. "Who are you?"

Sullivan was amazed the officer even thought to ask for his credentials, after the fiasco he had just witnessed. "Abe Sullivan. I am this boy's Social Worker and am taking custody of him." Abe pushed Caleb toward the duffel laying near the corner booth.

The youth broke loose from the big man's grasp only long enough to retrieve the bag and then he was standing flush against Sullivan's side, eyeing the others with open disdain.

"I'm sorry, sir, but we have instructions to take him to the precinct." Tooney's back up stepped forward, completely blocking the exit.

"Fine." Abe pushed Caleb ahead of him, as he parted the officer's like the Red Sea. "But I will be the one to take him, not you." As Sullivan past the last cop, he glanced toward the bar and gave Rusty a nod of thanks.

O'Shea had tried to keep the officers occupied until Abe got there, but the teen had tried to bolt out the kitchen door, which started the free for all. Rusty took a good look at Caleb as the boy went past and shook his head. The teen looked like he was on a dead man's walk and the searching gaze Rusty gave Caleb sent a chill raising down the bartender's spine.

Reaves's eyes were a blank void.

TBC...


	5. Monsters

_See Part 1 for Disclaimers..._

**A/N:** I would like to thank my pard Ridley for allowing me the opportunity to play with her boy toys. g She's always good at sharing. The story is taking on a life of its own, thanks in part to my muse, who apparently sounds a lot like Ridley or was it actually Ridley who made all those suggestions...hmmmm. Anyway, I hope you all are still enjoying the story and mistakes are still all mine. I tried to give them away, but no takers. Remember, reviews are appreciated and respected, flames are used on my students. bg 

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...Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.

**Stephen King- (1947- )**

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"Okay, kid, let's get out of here." Abe pushed the sullen teen out the door, thankful for the rare complacent behavior. He pulled Reaves to a stop on the sidewalk and was turning to tell Sgt. Tooney which car was his, when he felt Reaves drop from his grasp.

"Ahhhhhhh." Caleb doubled over clutching his head in both hands. The pain was like nothing he had ever felt, like red-hot knives being shoved into his skull. The teen dropped to his knees on the pavement, curling his body in as close as possible. Caleb could hear Sullivan yelling his name, but he couldn't stop the images as they started playing in his mind.

_He was going up the stairs and he felt something clutched in his right hand, the weight unfamiliar yet comforting somehow. The top of the stairs opened onto the landing and he didn't stop as he pushed the master bedroom door open. He saw her lying on the bed._

_She looked to be sleeping, so he went over to the night stand and picked up a pill bottle, not understanding the blurred letters. He put them back onto the table and turned to the oblivious woman: Martha. _

_She had yet to move as he stared down at her. He watched the even rise and fall of her chest then let his gaze settle on her face, tracing every outline with his eyes. He heard something akin to laughter but couldn't place where it originated. _

_His right hand raised from his side and a glint of metal redirected his eyes. A knife was tightly held there and he raised his left hand to gently stroke the weapon, the way one would caress a lover. His gaze went from the knife back to the slumbering woman._

_She still had not stirred. He felt his lips part into what he imagined was a grin but couldn't understand why and before he could think about it anymore; it happened._

_The knife swung down swift and determined, striking Martha in the chest. Before the startled woman could utter a scream, the knife lifted and fell in two quick successions. It then fell from his limp hand onto the hardwood floor._

_He stepped back and watched the blood begin a slow, steady fall from the once pristine bedcover. He looked at Martha's face and saw her eyes locked in a state of shock with her mouth forming a silent scream._

_He then moved his eyes to his right hand and this time another weapon of a different kind appeared. It was a .38 snub-nosed gun. He felt mesmerized by it as it slowly rose toward his temple. When he felt the cold barrel touch his fevered skin, he returned his gaze back to Martha and felt the smile grow. His thumb cocked back the hammer and his index finger began to squeeze the trigger. _

_His eyes slid shut and a click resounded around him..._

"NOOOOOOO!" Caleb jerked to his feet and staggered a few steps.

"Easy, son." Abe tightened his hold on the disoriented teen, watching helplessly as Reaves's gaze darted one way and then another. He didn't understand what had just happened, but he was afraid the boy had suffered a seizure of some sort.

"Caleb!" Sullivan shook him, hoping to get some awareness back into the frightened eyes. "Look at me!"

The wild eyes roved left and right before settling on the social worker. Caleb blinked a couple of times, then licked his lips. He could feel his body shaking and knew it wasn't due to the man clutching him. His gaze finally centered on Abe, taking in everything about him, focusing on the solidity of Sullivan.

"Abe?" The hoarse voice sounded worse than sandpaper scraping rock, but it sent a ray of relief through the social worker.

"Yeah. It's me." Sullivan loosened his grip slightly, not trusting the still unsettled look in the amber gaze

Caleb bobbed his head in acknowledgment, took a few deep breaths and then stepped back from Abe. Thankfully, the big man understood Reaves needed space and let him go.

"You okay now?"

A curt "yeah" was Abe's only response.

"Good." He reached over an patted the young man's shoulder, glad to see some of the youth's stubbornness return.

"Do we need to take him to the hospital?" Sgt. Tooney's question grabbed both Abe and Caleb's attention. It sounded like a mix of concern and exasperation. The police officers stood a few feet away, giving the teen curious glances.

Caleb gave the man a glare, not allowing Abe the chance to answer. "Hell no."

Sullivan grimace when he saw the cops tense up and knew the situation was going to quickly get out of hand if he didn't do something. "No, he should be fine now." He gently pulled Caleb back to his side, while picking up the kid's dropped duffel. "We'll follow you to the house." Abe watched the men slowly move to their patrol cars, relieved they had not pressed the issue.

"Come on." Sullivan gave Reaves a push toward a dark green Grenada, feeling the youth tense under his grasp.

"I'm not going back to that place, man." Caleb jerked free from Abe, continuing on his own to the car.

Sullivan sighed. He knew there was a damn good chance the foster home would be the last thing Judge Baker would suggest at this point. He felt the teen's fate was about to be taken out of Caleb's hands, especially if Tooney mentioned anything about the recent episode.

He stopped to watch as Reaves slammed the passenger door glancing warily toward the cop cars starting to surround Sullivan's auto. Abe wished he could do something to get Caleb out of this mess, but Reaves future path was heading away from the social worker and Sullivan prayed it weaved itself in a better direction.

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"Are you going to tell me what happened?" Jim sat on the sofa opposite Mac's armchair, watching the plethora of emotions cross the other man's face. Since the earlier phone call, Ames had been sitting quietly trying to decipher what had happened. "Fine, I'll keep waiting patiently."

Murphy observed Mac a few more seconds then stood up and headed toward the kitchen to get some more coffee.

"It was something I've never felt before and I'm quite frankly at a loss to really describe it."

The priest paused halfway between the living area and the kitchen, both surprised and wary of what the man had said. He turned to completely face the doctor and was happy to see Ames looking at him.

"Why do you say that?"

"I..." Mac raked a hand through his hair, not sure of how he could explain his experience. The feelings he had been overwhelmed with didn't fit with his capabilities and that unnerved him to no end. He had wrestled with his telekinesis and clairvoyance from the beginning, but had come to accept them as natural now. But the touching from another mind to his was something he was not yet ready for. The physician sighed, getting up from the chair and walking to the window overlooking Park Avenue. "Since I developed my abilities, I have experienced things I never would have dreamed, but earlier, I was overcome by an unfamiliar energy."

"Energy?" Jim questioned, still not grasping what the man was trying to convey.

Ames swung around and faced the priest, needing to clarify the event. "It was like touching another person physically, but only with your mind."

Jim made his way to Mac, not stopping until he was standing toe to toe with him. "Do you mean like when our dear Missouri attempts to be helpfully nosy?"

Mac grinned, "similar but not as subtle. It was powerful but desperate."

Murphy furrowed his brow in thought and then replied. "Could it have been a cry for help, maybe?" Jim turned and started a slow pace around the room. "The boy could have been reaching out and you happened to be the one he found." He paused in his journey and glanced back at Ames. "Missouri did say the boy stood out like a 2 dollar hooker in Sunday school."

Mac raised his eyebrow at both the description and the man who said it. "I believe Missouri has been around Bobby a bit too long." He relaxed somewhat, seeing the relevance in what the priest had said. "If this boy is as powerful as I suspect he is, we're going to need to get to him fast." Ames turned back to stare out the window, catching Murphy's gaze in the glass reflection. "I just hope we're ready for task."

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The bustling police precinct was anything but comforting to Caleb Reaves. He sat watching the adults around him, double checking both exits near him. He knew if worse came to worse he could make a fast getaway.

"What do the Johnsons' have to say about this?" Judge Baker crossed her arms and stared at the sargent, wondering for the umpteenth time what had gone wrong. Yesterday had shown the boy cognizant of his precarious predicament, but today had brought about a totally opposite reaction.

Tooney raked a hand down his face not enjoying the late night confrontation with the intimidating woman in front of him. He had come on shift around 3:00 only to be assigned a search grid for a runaway teen. Then, he had been one of the ones to find said youth only to be met with a mountain man from DCS. His day had held true to the old cliche 'out of the frying pan, into the fire'.

"We have yet to speak with the couple. I dispatched a unit to their house about 15 minutes ago. We should have an update at any time."

Baker nodded her head, satisfied with the actions of the officer. "Good. I want to get their side of this fiasco before I make any type of ruling." She turned away from Tooney, dismissing him and sought out Abe Sullivan.

She didn't move from he original spot as she began the conversation. "Sgt. Tooney informed me of some sort of medical issue concerning Mr. Reaves occurred en route to the station."

Abe held back the groan of frustration and applied a nonchalant look to the statement. "The boy had been on the streets for hours. He was slightly dehydrated and overwhelmed by the activity." Sullivan thought the explanation would be plausible.

"Hmmm." The judge stared at the social worker, gauging the man's sincerity. After a thorough inspection, she nodded her head in apparent acceptance of the scenario. "Very well. I'll let is go at that." She gave a brief glance to Caleb about to say something, but quickly returned her full attention to Tooney when the phone beside him began to ring.

The sargent listened patiently to the caller, giving grunts of the affirmative on occasion. After a few minutes, he straightened and gave his full gaze to Reaves. He clutched the phone closer to his ear, almost unsure of what he had just heard.

"What is the TOD?"

With this question, all within close proximity became silent and attentive.

"Both of them?"

Tooney nodded to the caller, apparently not aware of the other's ability to see the action.

"Alright, keep me informed." The sargent hung up the phone, never once removing his eyes from Caleb.

"What is it?" The judge moved slightly closer to the man, positive she was not going to like what she was about to hear.

The cop sighed heavily, feeling a sense of despair engulf him. "The patrol reached the Johnsons' house and found the front door ajar." Tooney changed his gaze to Baker's wanting to look the woman in the eyes as he finished his report. "They called out but received no answer, so entered the house. They searched the bottom floor and found several objects strewn about kitchen but no sign of the couple." He paused, allowing the others time to absorb what he had said thus far. "The two officers then proceeded upstairs noticing the moment they reached the landing that the bedroom door to their right was open. They entered the room and found both Mr. And Mrs. Johnson dead."

Judge Baker let a small gasp escape her as she took in the full story. She quickly composed herself knowing there had to be more to it. "The cause of death?"

Sgt. Tooney glanced to the floor and then over to the now ashen face of Reaves, before he continued. "Martha Johnson was stabbed multiple times and Lewis Johnson died from a gunshot wound to the head."

The silence in the room was deafening. It seemed the only noise was from those breathing.

Caleb felt a punch to his gut as the police officer recounted how the couple had died. He suddenly flashed to a moment years ago in another place.

He watched from the kitchen door as his father yelled hurtful and hateful words to his mother. His dad was so unlike anything he could remember. His mom's face was a mixture of hurt and fear as she watched the man she loved berate her soundly.

Caleb jerked as the memory of the knife striking his mom hit him. His mind latched on to the blood that dripped from her wounded chest. He heard his dad's voice say something, but couldn't stop the image of his mother's lifeless body falling to the floor playing across his vision.

It was the sound of a gunshot that triggered him to remember the look on his father's face as his body slowly fell beside his mom. The blood pooling around both of them like a bathtub filling with water.

"Any idea what happened?"

Sullivan's deep voice allowed Caleb to connect back to the present. He glanced from the social worker to the judge and then let his eyes settle on the sargent. He caught the man's quick look toward him and suddenly felt the need to run away as fast as he could.

Reaves reached down as if he was going to check the lace of his sneakers, when he grabbed his duffel and made a dash toward the double bay doors leading out of the bullpen.

The adults were momentarily shocked but the two officers nearest the doors recovered and made a grab for Caleb. He ducked away from one but only managed to fall directly into the other's waiting hands.

"Let me go!" Caleb pulled as hard as he could, attempting to loosen the officer's grip. The cop tightened his hold, but a sharp kick to the man's groin area had the officer releasing the youth and doubling in pain.

Reaves looked to the exit only to find it blocked. The teen was overwhelmed with desperation at what was happening. Seeing no other avenue of escape, he caught sight of the injured cop's holster near him and made his decision. He pulled the .38 caliber weapon loose and pointed it at the closest officer nearest him.

"Back off! NOW!" Reaves reached up and grasped the gun tightly, trying to ignore his shaking hands.

The men stopped immediately and made sure not to make any sudden moves.

"Easy, kid." Sgt. Tooney approached Reaves from behind, causing the teen to whirl around and point the weapon at him. "Look, whatever's happened will be okay. You just need to give me the gun." The cop stepped forward but halted as Caleb cocked the hammer.

Sullivan had made his way to Tooney's side and now faced the youth. "He's right, Caleb. We can work this out but only if you give me that gun."

Caleb snorted. "You don't get it do you?" He waved the .38 emphasizing his point. "It's my fault. They all died because of me." A hitch in his voice paused his statement, but he cleared his throat and continued. "It's all my fault and I've got to make it stop before it happens again."

Abe was caught by surprise at the youth's admission. It was then he remembered Caleb's file concerning his parents and knew they were in big trouble. "Listen to me, Caleb. None of this is your fault. You need to believe that." Sullivan moved a couple of steps closer. "We'll figure out what happened and find a way to fix this, I promise."

He watched Reaves mull over what he had just said, but saw the moment the youth disregarded it. Sullivan moved faster than he ever thought possible, grabbing the barrel of the gun and pulling it away from Caleb's temple.

The gun discharged into the ceiling before he could wrestle it from Reaves grasp. He pulled it completely free, quickly placing it in an officer's outstretched palm and then grabbed the youth.

He checked the boy's head for any signs of a wound and heaved a sigh of relief at finding none. He then saw a couple of teardrops slide from Caleb's amber eyes and the total desolation staring back from them. He didn't know what to say or do at that moment but Caleb didn't give him a chance to figure it out as the youth began struggling with Abe, using both fists and feet.

"Mr. Sullivan?" Judge Baker hurried toward the two, careful not to interfere with the wrestling match currently in progress.

Abe tried to answer the judge but Caleb used the momentary distraction to his advantage. He swung up with his right knee, attempting to replay his earlier success with an attack to the groin. However, Sullivan had anticipated such a move, so blocked the knee with a well placed swipe of his own leg. Caleb stumbled slightly from the trip but never let it stop his onslaught. The social worker was fast getting tired of the unruly teen's antics and decided to put a quick, but slightly painful, end to the tussle.

Grabbing Caleb's right wrist, he twisted the youth's arm around and behind his back, pinning it there. Reaves grunted from the pain but continued with his now futile struggle, considering he no longer had a target. Thankfully, after a few tense minutes, Abe felt him Caleb begin to calm somewhat, allowing Sullivan to finally answer Judge Baker.

"You were saying, judge?"

The woman's face was set in a hard mask with a grim line creasing her mouth. "I'm afraid due to Mr. Reaves recent actions and behavior, plus the current situation with his foster parents, I have no other option then to remand him to police custody." She raised her hand when she saw Sullivan was about to speak. "I'm sorry but it is necessary. At this time, the boy is a suspect in the alleged crimes, therefore, pending further investigation, he will have to be treated as such. However," she glanced to Sgt. Tooney, motioning him to come forward. "I will not have him placed in a jail cell but remanded to the Brooklyn Children's Psychiatric Center for evaluation and observation until the time a hearing can be convened to address these issues." She paused to take a calming breath.

"Sgt. Tooney, you and one other will transport Mr. Reaves to the installation." It was at this moment she looked to Caleb, receiving a look so filled with hate and contempt, it made her shiver. "I am sorry Caleb but this is in your best interests." She turned back to Tooney, finishing her instructions. "They have a 24 hour inpatient facility and I will be alerting them to your arrival."

Abe looked from the judge back to Caleb, trying to think of something to refute the judge's ruling. But as he held on to a defiant Reaves, he began to feel this was the only option for the youth. He thought of the episode outside of the bar and his recent attempt of suicide, realizing with clarity that the youth needed more help than any they could give him.

TBC...


	6. Unexpected

See Part 1 for Disclaimers.

**A/N:** Mistakes are mine.

_One need not be a chamber to be haunted;_

_One need not be a house;_

_The brain has corridors surpassing_

_Material place. _

**Emily Dickinson (1830 - 1886)**

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The night sky was dark and uninviting to Caleb. His mind was currently stuck in overdrive and his life was spinning out of control. He didn't know how or if he could ever stop it. They were dead, just as he had seen it. Just as he had watched his parents die. It all had to be one horrible nightmare, but as the police cruiser came to a stop, he realized with frightening clarity, it wasn't.

The double bay doors of Brooklyn Children's Psychiatric Center swung open revealing a heavy set man in his late forties. The white topping to an otherwise full head of hair, reflected the street lamps and security lamps splayed throughout the parking lot. The hardened scowl etched on his face was not helping Reaves level of anxiety in the least.

"Fuck this, man." Caleb jerked hard against Tooney's restraining hold but the officer had anticipated such a move, learning from his earlier mistakes.

"Easy, kid. The judge only wants you here for a little while, at least until the investigation is over. So, be a good boy and do as you're told." The hard squeeze to the teen's upper arm had him wincing in pain.

"I don't think so, jackass." Caleb swung out with his left foot and caught the cop behind his right knee. A howl of pain echoed through the night and a streak of black was seen heading toward the nearby wooded area.

The accompanying officer first checked his downed partner before making a beeline for the fleeing youth. The kid wasn't taking any chances this time as he veered away from the obvious foot path and headed into the overgrown area. He knew he had the advantage of youth and used it for all it was worth. He could hear the labored breathing of the cop following him, but refused to let that distract him from his intended goal.

He knew the main highway wasn't too far from the center and taking a shortcut through the urban jungle would get him there. After what seemed like hours but only short minutes, Caleb heard the passing cars ahead of him. He was just reaching the opening to the highway and the end to his fading light, when his luck ran out. A tree root, hidden beneath fallen leaves, caught his sneaker and flung him facedown in the dirt.

The hard packed earth stung the teen's face and knocked what was left of air out of his over exerted lungs. He lay panting, spitting leaves and dirt from his mouth when two rough hands grabbed him and jerked him to his feet.

"Nice try, kid." Officer Brown took several steadying breaths. The patrolman's face glowed eerily in the faint street light and passing car lights. "This time...I'm not taking any chances." He whirled Caleb around, pinning his arms behind him and clamped cuffs onto the youth's wrists. Sgt. Tooney didn't feel they would need to keep the teen restrained once they reached the center, apparently, he had been mistaken.

It was the moment the cuffs snapped shut that Caleb felt completely powerless and doomed.

Doctor Robert Jackson stared at the sorry spectacle facing him. Reaves's clothes were torn and dirty and his face was half covered in dirt. The doctor had watched the game of cat and mouse until the two had disappeared from view and then checked the still writhing officer on the ground. Thankfully, the knee was only badly bruised.

As he had continued his examination, he played the conversation with Judge Baker through his head and added the recent events to it, not liking the outcome. The judge had informed him of Caleb's recent attempt of suicide, his alleged involvement in a double homicide, and confrontational behavior but he had not dreamed it was this severe.

"All right gentlemen, please bring Mr. Reaves and follow me." He led the way through the bay doors and to a dead end corridor. On each side of the hallway were two rooms adorned with deadbolt locks and small 2X2 windows. He stopped beside the last one on the left and took out a key ring. After several tries, he finally found the correct key and swung open the door. The room revealed a single bed, a chair, a sink, and a lone toilet with no privacy.

Caleb's glimpse at the furnishings had him struggling once more, not caring about the restraints or the men holding him. He was not going to be locked away like a mad dog.

"Let me GO!" He kicked out, fighting against the two cops but they held firm.

"This will simply not do, gentlemen." Dr. Jackson motioned for the others to come inside the room as he went back into the hallway. "If you will excuse me for a moment, I need to retrieve something to help calm Mr. Reaves down."

Sgt. Tooney pulled the reluctant youth to the chair and forced him to set down. Caleb continued to pull and push his way free, but the attempts were futile.

"You're not helping yourself, Caleb. Just calm down and this will all be over soon." No truer words had ever been spoken as Jackson stepped back into the room.

He had a glass bottle and syringe grasped in his hand. "It seems Mr. Reaves is suffering from an extreme case of paranoia and possible psychotic break, unfortunately, until he can remain calm I cannot fully diagnose this. So, this will have to suffice until such time." The physician injected the needle into the bottle of liquid, pulling 50 CCs into the syringe. He removed it and patted it a couple of times to remove any possible air bubbles. Satisfied with the result, he motioned for Tooney to lift Caleb's left shirt sleeve.

"This will hurt less if you relax young man." Reaves's answer hit the doctor directly between his eyes and made a slow trail down the man's nose. A low growl escaped Jackson as he forced the needle, none too gentle, into Caleb's arm.

Caleb couldn't hold back the yelp of pain as the offending object sank into his flesh. A cold sensation rushed up his shoulder and then he felt his body begin to loosen up and grow lax. He could hear the men's voices floating around him and could even make out the shapes of their bodies, but they were slowly losing focus and sounding far, far away. As he felt his eyes sliding shut, he caught a glimpse of a young, black woman standing in front of him. He blinked his eyes to get a better view, but when he looked again, she was gone.

That was the last thing he remembered as his world went black.

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"_Good morning, New York. It is Friday, November 3rd and today's forecast is partly cloudy with a chance of flurries..."_

Mac glanced briefly at the newscaster on his television, as he poured himself his third coffee of the day. He had been awake for most of the night, plagued with the sensation of the mind that had connected with him yesterday, plus trying to figure out how to find Caleb Reaves. He knew the boy was somewhere in the foster care system but getting any information from Children Services was like asking God for a miracle.

He took a sip of the hot liquid and sighed before refocusing his attention to the young reporter.

"_In other news today, a double homicide rocked the Queens area late last night. Lewis and Martha Johnson_ _were found in the upstairs bedroom of their Brownstone- dead from stab wounds and gun shots. At this time, the police are not releasing a possible motive only that the couple's 12 year old foster son was the last to see them alive. They have taken the teen into custody but are not revealing any other information at this time. Please stay tuned..."_

The broadcast faded as Ames shut the volume off the TV and grabbed for the ringing telephone. A nagging suspicion assaulted his senses as he replayed the announcement over and over again. Before he could latch onto his wayward thoughts, the voice on the other end of the phone line grabbed his attention.

"Mac?" The disturbed voice of Missouri Mosley sounded out of character for the young woman. He was about to answer her when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He turned to find Jim standing there, obviously aware something had happened.

Ames briefly placed his hand over the receiver and mouthed, _Missouri_, then quickly asked, "what's wrong?"

"What isn't wrong?" A deep sigh echoed through the phone line. "We've got big problems."

"Problems?" Jim leaned toward the phone trying to pick up on the conversation. Mac accommodated the priest by turning the receiver sideways and leaning closer to Murphy.

"It seems there were several disturbances of the supernatural kind last night. I've felt them throughout the night, but the two strongest came from your area and here in Lawrence." She paused to calm herself and continued. "I felt Caleb. His feelings were erratic and I couldn't understand what exactly was going on, just that he needs you now."

Mac reached up with his left hand and rubbed a finger across his brow, feeling a headache building behind his eyes. "Any ideas how we can find him?" Ames tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, knowing Missouri would take offense to it.

Jim tightened his hand on Mac's arm, conveying as much calm and patience as he could. "Any help you could give us would be appreciated, Missouri."

The two men heard a clicking noise, recognizing it as the woman's fingers rhythmically striking a hard surface. "The only thing I know for certain is the answer lies in the news. My first vision of Caleb involved the newspaper, so whatever happened last night may be reported today."

It was at that moment Mac's earlier suspicion hit him square in the face.

"Of course." He shoved the phone to Jim and went to his apartment door. He knew the bellman had delivered the morning addition by now. Ames reached out and grabbed the warm paper from his front landing, returning to the puzzled priest in record time.

"The murders this morning in Queens. The newsman said the couple had a foster son, who the police were now holding in custody." As Mac talked, he untied the periodical and there on the front page was the report.

A picture of the young couple was placed in the middle of the paper, but only the barest of data was given concerning the 12 year old. A heavy sigh escaped Ames, feeling he was no closer to the youth than he was five seconds ago.

Jim startled the doctor from his self-recrimination when he took the newspaper from Ames's hands. "Don't you occasionally do work for the FBI?" Murphy read over the article, having missed the television report.

Mac frowned, wondering what his sporadic psychic endeavors with the Federal Bureau of Investigation had to do with finding a boy. "Of course I do, but what does that have to do with this?" The frustration was seeping out of the man now.

Jim raised his eyes from the article and gave the man a smirk. "Doesn't the FBI work with the local police agencies sometimes? I'm sure Agent Harris would be happy to help someone like you with finding a murderer." Murphy watched understanding dawn in the doctor's eyes and a smile begin to form.

"I'm sure Harris would be happy to introduce me to the lead investigator." Mac reached for the phone, wondering when Jim had hung up with Missouri, but as the thought of finally finding Caleb Reaves entered his head, he didn't particularly care.

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"Forgive my abruptness, Mr. Ames," Sgt. Tooney looked at the man standing in front of him, wondering, not for the first time, if he had stepped off the cover a magazine. "But I don't usually get a call from the FBI telling me there is a psychic who wants to talk to a key witness." The officer shook his head trying to decide if he really believed this was happening.

Mac let a sigh die under his breath, knowing a light hand was needed to deal with this situation. "I'm sorry, sargent. I do not mean to interfere, but Agent Harris and I have worked on several cases together and yes they do involve some, shall we say, unorthodox methods." Ames stepped closer and lowered his voice. "I have a special talent for finding facts in nontraditional ways and for some reason, the Queen murders triggered a...shall we say, epiphany?" Mac smiled, hoping to charm the officer the best he could.

Tooney rubbed a hand down his face and then shook his head again. "What the hell? What could it hurt?" He grabbed a pen and paper on his desk, jotting down the Brooklyn Children's Center information and then handed to the man. "I don't think you'll get much out of him right now."

Mac stopped in a half circle when he heard this. "Why would you say that?" The doctor raised his eyebrow, afraid he was not going to like the answer.

"Dr. Jackson felt Mr. Reaves was in an extreme paranoid state and possibly having a break with reality. So, he gave him some medicine."

Ames felt his blood pressure spike. "What kind of medicine?" Anyone who knew the resident clairvoyant would have identified the danger of that simple question.

The officer shrugged his shoulders and started to smile. "I don't know, but I wish we would have had some at the station last night. Once the kid was dosed, he was out like a light, no problems." A full-blown smile graced the cop's features by now, thinking the other man would share in his apparent glee for the youth's current state.

Mac was in Sgt. Tooney's face in two steps. "A child being drugged out of his mind is not something to revel in **officer**." The last word dripped with venom. "This young man needs help, not an audience for entertainment."

Tooney was extremely relieved there was a desk separating him from the enraged man. He could see the muscles of Ames's arms flex with restraint. The cop cleared his throat and leaned away.

"Yes, sir, I know that and apologize."

Mac sniffed disdainfully, not appreciating in the least the patronizing apology. "I'm not the one that needs the apology. Good day, officer." With that, Mac turned and exited the precinct without a backwards glance. He had what he had come from and dismissed the sargent and his asinine attitude.

"Did you get it?" Jim had been waiting in the car for Mac to return and from the looks of it, he wondered if he shouldn't have gone along. "Everything okay?" The door slammed against the car frame, shaking it. "Guess not." Murphy waited while the other man got his breathing under control enough to speak.

"Idiots. All of them. To treat a boy like..." The doctor trailed off, not knowing exactly what he wanted to say or how too expressed exactly what he was feeling.

"Did you find him?" Jim's calm tone had the desired effect as he watched Mac begin to calm down. He waited a few more minutes until the doctor regained his composure, thankful when the man started the car.

"They put him in a children's psych center." A low growl escaped Ames before he could control it. "Apparently, the **doctor** on duty felt the need to sedate him due to his unruly behavior."

Jim heaved a sigh, knowing how Mac felt about physicians abusing drugs, especially when they don't know the full story behind their patient. "We'll take care of it one step at a time." Murphy eased himself into the seat, preparing himself, for what, he wasn't exactly sure.

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"Well, it is quite irregular to allow an outside physician access to one of our patients, Dr. Ames." Dr. Robert Jackson stood sentinel in front of the hallway leading to Caleb's room. The front desk had thought nothing wrong to deny the two men access to the facility. Especially when Mac started throwing out names and credentials everyone within hearing range would definitely recognize as prestigious.

"I know it may seem strange to you, Dr. Jackson, but I spoke with the police and have left a message with Judge Baker concerning Mr. Reaves. I have a special connection to this case and the FBI was kind enough to help me get in touch with the right people." Ames stepped toe to toe with the resident physician. "I'm sure my presence or help in this case will in no way hinder the investigation, but if you feel there could be a problem, please contact the judge yourself." Mac sidestepped the man and started down the hall. "But, in the meantime, I am going to see the patient."

Jim smiled at Jackson as he too went around the doctor, following in Ames's wake.

The doctor's face had turned a slight shade of pink, taking the man's impertinence as a personal affront. "I'll do just that, _doctor_."

Mac and Murphy waited patiently as the orderly Ames had grabbed on his way down the corridor opened the bolted door. Neither man expected the sight that greeted them.

Caleb Reaves was strapped to the iron bedstead and was staring with blank eyes at the ceiling. Mac rushed into the room and quickly grabbed the youth's wrist, checking his pulse. It was slower than normal and slightly thready. Ames then took out a penlight and shined it twice in each of Caleb's eyes. The response time was extremely slow.

"What is he on?" Mac turned to the orderly standing in the doorway just behind Jim.

"I'm not sure, but it probably says on his chart." The young man visibly flinched at the glare Ames gave him.

"Well, it would be helpful it you could bring me that chart. Now."

The hospital worker quickly fled from the room back toward the reception desk.

Jim stepped next to Mac who was still clasping Caleb's wrist. "Is he all right?"

Ames shook his head hard, swallowing a couple of times. "Hell no. I don't know what that idiot thought he was doing giving an anti-psychotic drug to a healthy child. He's almost put the kid in a coma." Mac squeezed Reaves's wrist lightly before placing it back onto the bed.

Murphy reached over and touched Caleb's leg, reassuring himself they had indeed found the teen. "Will he be okay?"

Mac was about to answer when the orderly reentered the room carrying Caleb's patient records. Ames gave the information a fast once over before abruptly leaving the room. He found Dr. Jackson at the reception desk talking with the head nurse on duty.

Mac bypassed the woman and placed himself directly in front of Jackson. "I want Caleb Reaves taken off all meds immediately."

The center physician raised an eyebrow at the demanding tone, still smarting from the earlier abuse. "I'm sorry, Dr. Ames, but no. You are not on staff here, nor are you in charge of this particular patient."

Mac turned his back to the other man and grabbed the nearest phone. "I can rectify that now, doctor."

Twenty minutes later had Mac being appointed Caleb's temporary power of attorney for medical issues. It was apparent that the Ames name held strong clout in more than the medical world. Mac watched as the nurse administered a Saline IV drip to help flush the drug out of Reaves system faster. Ames hoped the medicine hadn't caused any irreversible damage.

"How long will it take for him to be completely aware?" Jim stood shoulder to shoulder with Mac and watched how the nurse treated the youth with extreme care.

Ames rubbed his throbbing temples, letting his gaze lock with Murphy's. "If all goes well, he should be aware tomorrow morning."

"We'll be able to talk to him then?"

"Yes." Mac left his position to recheck the nurse's work as he watched her leave the room. "We should be able to connect with him on all levels." Ames knew Jim would pick up on his subtle hint concerning both his and Missouri's talents. "I wasn't able to get anything but a slight twinge when I held his wrist earlier. That was my clue he was on the verge of a comatose state." Ames nodded, satisfied with the IV, and turned back to Jim.

"I would suggest one of us stay here with him, but I'm afraid that may be pushing it with the good Dr. Jackson."

Jim smirked at the memory of the blathering doctor when he was given the order to allow Dr. Mackland Ames full control of Caleb's case. Mac hadn't made a friend with that little trick. "I'm sure he would not appreciate any more of your help."

The pastor's smirk made Mac slightly guilty, but after seeing the blank look in Caleb's eyes, Ames couldn't help his reaction. "If we come back around 7:00 tomorrow morning, we'll probably arrive before he wakes."

Murphy acquiesced, knowing Mac's medical knowledge superceded anything the priest could offer. "Sounds good to me. At least we know we found who we were looking for and just in time."

Ames reached over and patted the youth's hand, surprised when he felt a slight twitch. "Caleb, can you hear me?" Mac leaned over, staring at the amber eyes still locked on the ceiling. He waited for some other sign of recognition, but nothing. He straightened up and let his hand drop from the teen. "It's okay. We'll have plenty of time to talk later."

The two men turned and left the room, not noticing the slow blink of Reaves's eyelids.

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"Tell me again what we're doing here?" The scruffy man sidestepped an orderly as he followed his partner toward the receptionist's desk at the Brooklyn Children's Center.

"I told you." The man stopped and whirled to face his companion. "We need to make sure that what happened last night was supernatural related and the only way to do that is to see the boy."

Before the first man could say another word, a short gasp of surprise had both men swinging forward.

"Bobby?... Daniel? What are you two doing here?" Jim blinked a couple of times not believing his eyes. The two hunters standing before him weren't suppose to be anywhere near New York.

"Jim," Elkins nodded at the pastor and then gave his full attention to Mac. "Ames, what are you doing here?"

Mac gave a short nod acknowledging the two men. "Jim and I are working on a case for Missouri. What brings you two around here?" The doctor was just as puzzled as Murphy as to the hunters appearance.

Singer cleared his throat, looking to Daniel to answer, but the other man didn't even try to retort. "Well, we're working a case of a possible demonic possession. It seems there were a couple of murders last night that may be connected." Bobby saw something flash across Mac's and Jim's faces but couldn't quite grasp what it was. "Anyway, Daniel figured it would be a good idea to check the foster kid, since he was the only one to survive. We got the address from the lead cop once we flashed our badges," Singer shrugged his shoulders, not sure what else he could say. "And... here we are."

"Then I can save you some trouble." Mac reached inside his jacket and retrieved his sunglasses, knowing the evening sun would be shining brightly on their ride home. "The kid, Caleb Reaves, is in no condition to answer your questions." Ames was stepping around Bobby to go toward the exit when Elkins voice caused him to pause in his tracks.

"You sure about that?"

Mac faced the hunter with a questioning glance.

"Six years ago I made a mistake concerning this kid's father," Daniel glanced first at Jim and then back at Ames, "and I'm not going to make the same mistake twice."

TBC...


	7. Observation

See Part 1 for Disclaimers.

**A/N:** First off, I want to thank all of my great reviewers. You have kept the inspiration going through the rough times. I haven't forgotten the story, just had to take a short hiatus. Hopefully, this part will be the return of prompt posting. Once again, thank you for the great reminders and wonderful support. I hope you enjoy and keep on reading. Mistakes are mine. A big thanks goes to my pard Ridley for letting me play in her sandbox.

* * *

_As may supposed, therefore, _

_D'Artagnan did not dare to take part in the conversation, _

_but contented himself _

_with keeping his eyes and ears wide open. _

**Alexandre Dumas (1802 - 1870)**

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Mackland couldn't quite grasp what the man in front of him had just said. Did Elkins actually think a child of 12 was capable of such atrocity? He didn't give a damn about his logic or parental evidence of past demonic activity. Caleb Reaves was not responsible in any way, shape, or form for the recent murders.

"Caleb Reaves is in no way, shape, or form responsible for the murders." Ames stared long and hard at Daniel. "Then or now."

Elkins sighed heavily, not understanding the man's current one-mindedness concerning a possible demon possession. "All I know is that six years ago I didn't listen to my instincts and that boy's mother died and his father committed suicide. I'm not going to make the same mistake twice."

Daniel rose from his chair and turned to leave. Not caring at this point whether the men behind him supported or rejected his intentions. "I'm going to do my job and if you have a problem with that..." He paused at the front door and glanced to the three men behind him. "Tough." And then he was gone.

Bobby Singer stared at the recently shut front door, unsure as to what he should do. He suddenly felt eyes upon him and turned to see Jim Murphy all but pleading with him via a sharp gaze. He was lost as to what the older man wanted, so waited for further instructions.

Jim let out a deep breath. He had hoped he wouldn't have to speak aloud his thoughts, but Bobby was not reacting to his silent messages. "Bobby, why don't you go keep an eye on Daniel." Singer still sit, waiting. "Keep him from doing anything **stupid**." Murphy jerked his head toward the front entrance, all but shouting at the hunter to get lost.

"Ah,..." as if a light of understanding suddenly hit, Bobby was up and gone.

Mackland immediately turned on the priest. "What the hell was that about?" Ames stood from his recliner and began pacing back and forth. "Do we suddenly have a communication problem in the Brotherhood? Why didn't he inform us he was hunting here, much less what he was hunting? He's not acting like the Knight, Jim." Mac stopped and held Murphy's gaze. "For that matter, why didn't Bobby tell us?"

Murphy held the hurt look momentarily before glancing down at his joined hands. "With the recent demon activity and the problem with finding Caleb, I just didn't think about Daniel and Bobby's hunt. Or Daniel's attitude as of late."

Jim raked a hand through his hair and looked at his friend once more. "Besides, Elkins has been imparting certain beliefs and ideas surrounding a possession and murder/suicide from six years ago so much, I have to admit, I've ranked his rambling about it with the others concerning his vampire obsession."

Mac raised his eyebrow in a mix of question and astonishment. "So, you think he's just making something out of nothing too?"

Jim stood up and brought himself closer to Ames. "What I think is that Caleb needs our help now and Daniel's need for answers can wait."

Mac nodded once and walked to the window overlooking the street. He stared out into the distance and silently wondered what the new day would bring...good or bad.

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He had listened throughout the night to their comings and goings, making sure not to make any movements or sounds to alert them to his wakefulness. It was extremely hard early morning, due to the nurse removing his IV.

Now, he waited and watched. He was still a little fuzzy on the happenings from the last 24 hours, but for some reason he kept remembering a man. This man seemed familiar but he was positive he had never met him before in his life.

Caleb was about to make his way off the bed for the second time since waking, when a noise at the door stopped him. He watched as it slowly opened, then quickly averted his eyes. He stilled his breathing, waiting.

"Is it normal for him to still look like that?" This man's voice was not the one he had expected but sounded kind and surprisingly concerned. He was going to get a quick look at the visitor, when Caleb's senses were peaked...it was him.

"No, it's not." Mac quickly stepped up to Reaves's bedside and reached out, taking the boy's wrist in hand. What he saw and felt when they connected had Ames reeling. He was being swallowed in images of a small boy playing along the beach with another man... the same small boy cringing in a corner, scared of the blood flowing from his mother's body... and the final image was of the boy lying in front of him being trapped by another intending to kill him.

"Mac... MACKLAND!" Jim's strong voice finally penetrated the assault, causing Ames to blink and bringing the priest into focus. It was then he realized he was sitting on the floor next to Caleb's bed, no longer holding the teen's wrist, and propped up by the bed's metal frame. "You with me?" Murphy placed a drink in the disoriented man's hand and guided it to his lips. "Here, drink this." Before the liquid could touch his mouth, Mac swivelled around and turned his attention to the bed.

His eyes latched onto the deep amber gaze and Mac had an overwhelming protectiveness flow through him like he had never felt. Even more disconcerting was that the emotion was being portrayed for a complete stranger.

Ironically, Mac realized he had yet to hear the boy speak.

"Hey." Abrupt, curt and 100 attitude, as if Reaves had heard Ames's thoughts.

Mac stood from his recent reclined position, never letting his gaze drop from Caleb's. He noticed the frown of rebellion radiating from Reaves's face and let a small smile slip onto his lips, hoping to ease the tension. Unfortunately, the teen's eyebrows dropped lower and the body tensed more rather than less.

"Sorry about that. It wasn't my intention to have our first meeting be quite so..." Ames paused, struggling for the right word for what just happened.

"Weird?" Caleb scooted himself further up in the bed and placed his back against the wall, keeping the two men directly in front of him and definitely out of reach.

Mac chuckled slightly. That had been exactly what he had wanted to say but thought against it. "Yeah, I guess that would work." The doctor felt Jim begin pushing at his shoulders and realized the priest had brought the room's chair over to him, wanting him to sit. He quickly obliged, still feeling shaky and confused.

"Perhaps introductions would be best right now." Mac cleared his throat, trying to wipe away the remaining vestiges of his recent quest. "The man to my right is Pastor Jim Murphy; and I am Dr. Mackland Ames, but you may call me Mac."

"Why?" Caleb never let his hard gaze or rebel sneer waver.

Mac was suddenly at a loss as to what he was asking. "Why what?"

Reaves pulled his knees up to his chest and placed his wrists atop them. "Why would I want to call you that? I don't even know you."

_Ah..ha...good point_. Ames tried to think of a suitable come back, but honestly couldn't fathom an answer. Thankfully, the resident priest saved the day.

"You will though and when you do, he'd prefer you call him Mac; and you can call me Jim." Murphy crossed his arms, leaning into the wall behind Mac's chair. He was thoroughly enjoying the scene before him. It was a rare occurrence indeed to see the articulate Dr. Ames struck dumb.

And that a 12 year old was the cause, was simply icing on the cake.

A derisive snort interrupted the priest's moment. "Trust me. You won't be around that long." Caleb shut his eyes and let his head fall back onto the wall. A whispered, 'just like the rest' was barely heard. But heard nonetheless.

It tore at Jim's heart. He had seen the short bout of terror cross the youth's face when Mac collapsed. He didn't understand what caused Caleb such a reaction, but felt the boy needed some reassurance.

"I understand you don't know us, and have no reason to listen, much less trust us." Murphy moved forward next to the bed, happy to see the eyelids raise slightly. "But, I want you to believe that we are here to help you. No matter how long it takes."

Caleb raised his head and locked gazes with Jim, as if weighing his worth, and then turned his ernst look to the man in the chair. He still couldn't figure out why he was drawn to the man. So far they had exchanged a total of two sentences and those weren't monumental in any way. But the look Ames was giving him made his heart ache. It reminded him of the times he would catch his father watching him as he played.

It was a look Reaves missed daily.

Even if he, for a minute, believed the words, he had a path of broken promises to follow and could prove them wrong. The few people he had trusted in his short life had broken promises many times over and almost broken him in the process. He couldn't afford to let himself fall into the hope.

"Whatever." He turned from both men and stared at the far wall. He decided to let their actions speak louder than the words.

Jim sighed softly. The world weary youth was proving to be more of an obstacle than originally anticipated. He glanced at the doctor sitting next to the bed. Mac's face was awash with slight bewilderment. A look he possessed when faced with a particular hard diagnosis. It seemed Ames had decided to approach the teen with a medical hand, rather than a friendly one.

"Jim, I need to speak with you outside please." Mac stood, walking out the door without looking back.

The priest noticed a slight slump to Caleb's shoulders when Ames left, and felt a twinge of hope for the youth was still at hand.

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Jim pulled the door shut softly and watched the man in front of him. Mac was wound extremely tight. The choked steps and drawn features spoke volumes. He waited patiently for Ames to gather his thoughts and address the problem. Which problem, Jim wasn't entirely sure.

"We have a problem." Mac stopped directly in front of Murphy.

Jim snorted slightly. He had gotten this far on his own. "Which one?"

A lowering of an eyebrow and droop of the lips told Jim Mac was not happy with his retort.

"Aside from the boy's attitude, Caleb has a serious problem." The mere memory had Mac flinching before he resumed his thoughts. "It seems someone is after him and may not stop until he's dead." A slight stutter in the last word had all thoughts of recent amusement leaving Murphy. He knew it took a great deal to rattle the other man.

"Did you see the man?" Jim reached out and grasped Mac's arm, feeling the minor trembles coursing through the muscles. "Anything that will help us find him?"

Ames shook his head in a negative. If he had kept in contact with Caleb a few more minutes, maybe, but as it was, nothing. Just a feeling of helplessness that he didn't like one bit.

Murphy squeezed the doctor's arm once before letting go, knowing Mac was beating himself up over the lack of information. They weren't anything if not stubborn.

"Look..." Jim waited until Mac was looking at him before he continued. "There is a boy in that room that needs us. No matter the reason." A nod of understanding came in response to his statement, which he was relieved to receive. "Good. You stay here and try to talk to him, while I go find out more about him."

Ames glanced at the closed door leading to the obstinate youth and then back at the priest. Noticing the smirk that appeared and disappeared within a millisecond. He knew what the man was up to and decided to let him have his fun. Murphy apparently thought Caleb was a type of 'come-uppin's' for the good doctor.

"Fine. You go find out more about our wayward son and I'll try to move the 'Great Wall'."

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The small shop was quaint and very inviting. Two things Jim took as good signs to his impending meeting. The social worker had informed him to be wary of Bird. Her temperament was well known throughout Child Services.

The jingle of a bell alerted Murphy that he had indeed arrived at his destination and there was no turning back.

"May I help you?" The gravelly voice carried from somewhere to his left.

"Uhm...I'm looking for Birdell?" Jim stepped toward the area he suspected the lady in question was currently stationed.

A brief grunt and shuffle heralded the arrival of a small woman dressed in a flowered outfit that was meant to rattle the senses. She was carrying a long wooden handle one would find attached to a broom head. However, this particular stick was whittled to a sharp edge on the end. The object caused Jim to involuntarily step back.

"Excuse me, mam. I didn't mean to startle you." Murphy hoped his calm demeanor would help him to hold off any wrath from the woman.

Bird spent about two seconds sizing Jim up one side and down the other. From the immediate defensive stance moments later, Murphy figured his attempt had failed.

"I just want a minute of your time, mam. My name is Jim Murphy and I'm here to help Caleb."

This admission made her pause in her aggressive motion and reevaluate her visitor. This time she spent a long minute staring into the priest's eyes and a brief instance later the sharp edged handle was placed to the side.

"I'm sorry about that. You can't be to careful." Bird stepped forward and held out her hand. "I'm Birdell." She turned and went to sit on a stool placed behind the shop's counter. As she settled herself in, she returned her gaze to Murphy's.

Her next words had Jim's easing tension disappearing. "Now, why should I believe you want to help my boy?"

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No matter how long he stared, the door refused to magically scribe the answers Ames desperately needed. Mac sighed hard. He was not cut out for this. He was trained to deal with patients, demons, and sometimes pissed off priests. What he wasn't prepared to deal with was a twelve year old hormone with an attitude to rival Satan himself.

"Face it, Ames. You're screwed."

"Do you talk to yourself a lot?" Caleb had pulled the door open earlier, hoping to eavesdrop on the two men. The crack in the opening hadn't allowed him to overhear anything, but when Murphy had left, he decided to take the opportunity to watch the doctor. At first he thought the man was upset over something, but after a few minutes of frustrated mumbling, he had the man pegged as senile.

Mac jumped at the unexpected voice, suddenly realizing the door was ajar. How long had the kid been watching him? Apparently long enough to draw a small smile of amusement from the teen.

"I was working out a problem by verbally expressing the pros and cons to help sort things in my head." Ames stated, intending to intimidate the youth with his condescending tone.

"Sure." Reaves rolled his eyes, Ames plan clearly not working. "Whatever, man."

The two stood staring at each other through the small opening.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" Caleb pulled the door open wider. "I've never had a doorman, so don't expect a tip." Reaves leaned against the door jam and allowed his smile to grow when he noticed Mac's grimace.

"I am not your doorman." Ames slowed his breathing, trying to keep his growing ire from showing. "I was simply deciding what to say."

"How about good-bye?" The teen's mood abruptly changed. He turned to go back into the room, roughly shoving the door closed behind him.

"Is that what you want?" Mac quickly stepped forward and placed a hand against the door, keeping it from shutting in his face.

Caleb kept his back to the doctor and tried to quell that pesky hope trying to grab hold of his heart. Shrugging his shoulders, Reaves glanced back to look at Mac.

"Do whatever you want, doc." Caleb continued into the room and once more sit cross-legged on the bed. "No one cares what I want, never have." He watched as Ames slowly reentered the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Mac took the chair he had recently sit in and moved it opposite Caleb. He sit down, taking the time to study the youth closely. He kept hearing and seeing the resistance from Reaves, but something was telling him the kid really wanted him here.

"Well, I do." Ames leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and stared directly at Caleb. "So, tell me. What do you want?"

Reaves was at a loss. He could deal with altercation, attitude, and running away, but the look being given to him now was far from what he had expected. It was filled with compassion and promise. A promise to listen and give him a chance. The one thing he had wanted and desired since the night his parents were taken from him.

"I want out of here."

TBC...

05/06/07


	8. Stranded

See Part 1 for Disclaimers...

A/N: **Sorry for the extreme delay. I have been internet deprived and in the middle of relocating these past few weeks. Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers for your patience and kind words. The end of the story is near, I promise. g ALL MISTAKES ARE MINE!!**

_This moment of delay sufficed for d'Artagnan to form his resolution._

_It was one of those moments weighed with a man's whole destiny;_

_it was a choice, once made, must be adhered to._

_**Alexandre Dumas- **_**The Three Musketeers**

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"You're not going to make this easy are you?" Mac sighed. He should have known by now nothing dealing with Reaves was simple.

"You asked what I wanted." Caleb eyed the man, wondering if he would be awarded a wish for the first time in his life; but as he watched Ames, he saw the frown form and knew what was coming. "Hey, don't freak. I figured as much." Reaves stretched himself out on the bed and leaned back against the pillow. He then made a point of turning his head away from the doctor and snapping his eyes shut.

He heard the sigh again, this time long and loud.

"Why don't you just go."

Mac blinked, bewildered at the dismissal. His father had been the only person in his life that had excused him like a mere mortal. Dr. Ames was not impressed in the least.

"I will take a walk," Mac knew he needed the time to think of a strategy for dealing with the obstinate youth. "But... I will be back." There was no reply, only a shift of the bed as Caleb got more comfortable. Ames watched him a few minutes longer, but all he received was the slow, steady breathing indicative of sleep.

He turned from the still form and exited the room, unsure as to what he should do, especially what to do about Reaves. Some things should be simple, unfortunately, Mackland was learning teenagers did not fall into this category. Before he could depress himself more, the sharp tone of his beeper interrupted his melancholy thoughts.

He grasped it as if it was a lifeline. The number looking back at him was very familiar; it was his home phone. An exhaust of air exited Ames's lips. He hoped Murphy had something better than the dead end he had hit.

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Bobby wondered when he had been relegated to babysitter. When he and Daniel had started the hunt it had made perfect sense. There had been unknown circumstances surrounding the couple's death and with further investigation on their part, evidence revealed demon activity. So, their next step had been simple; kill the demon.

Now, according to Jim and Mac, a child was involved. Unfortunately, said child was on the top of Daniel's hit list and Ames's protected species roster.

As he stepped into the shared motel room, Singer knew there was a big problem. Elkins was gone. His stuff, including the hidden weapons, had been removed and as Singer searched around; no note. Not that he was expecting one. The Knight had rarely answered to anyone, the exception being Murphy, but with the latest confrontation, Bobby assumed that wasn't going to happen any time soon.

The hunter was screwed. He had lost their only link to the background surrounding this particular demon and the immediate threat to Reaves. Elkins had tap danced around the knowledge of the demon and its tie to Caleb while they were at Mac's. The more they had asked, the more Daniel had clammed up tighter than a drum.

Damn stubborn, the lot of them. Bobby sighed as he double checked the room, hoping he had overlooked something... anything. After a second more thorough sweep, he received the same results and finally accepted his doom. He was going to have to call Mac and he so was not looking forward to that.

Stepping over to the motel phone, he immediately dialed the penthouse number and waited. After several rings with no answer, Bobby grabbed the beat up yellow pages beside the rotary phone and quickly found the Brooklyn Children's Center.

He heard the phone pick up on the other end and then a nasally voice assaulted his ears.

"_May I help you?"_

Bobby pulled the offending piece away from his ear and wondered if a Banshee was loose in the hospital.

"_Hello?"_ the voice yelled... or rather shrieked.

Clearing his throat and accepting the inevitable, Singer quickly asked for her to page Dr. Ames to the phone.

"_One moment please..."_

As Bobby waited, he drummed his fingers on the tabletop, trying to figure out where Elkins would go. He knew Daniel had mentioned something about Reaves's family being involved, so there may be a chance he would seek out the boy's closest relatives.

Singer scratched that idea when he remembered Caleb had no living relatives. His grandmother had died recently and his parents six years ago. Bobby's fingers pounded harder, causing the already shaky object to go into convulsions.

"_HELLO!"_

The annoyed shout brought Singer back to his current situation. "Uhm...Mac?"

"_Who did you expect, Bobby?"_

Bobby couldn't help the snort at the unusual display of sarcasm. "I think you've been hanging around with the kid too long."

"_What is it, Bobby?"_

Okay, apparently the good doctor was not in a good mood. Well, since he was already down, why not add to the misery.

"I lost him."

"_How?"_

"I followed him to the train station and then he ducked me. I assumed he would head back here to the motel; and I was right. Unfortunately, he was gone when I got here. All his stuff, including his weapons." Bobby raked a hand down his face in frustration. "No note, nothing. I don't have a clue where he would go."

Singer visualized the slow burn he could feel permeating through the phone line.

"_Didn't you two discuss a game plan of any kind, such as a case involving your separation?"_

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say discussed. He told me we would hunt down the demon and exorcize it back to hell. That was about it." Bobby shrugged, not realizing Mac couldn't see him. "I was following his lead."

A long pause had Singer wondering if Ames had hung up on him, but just as he was going to say something, Mac's clipped voice came across the phone line.

"_Get your stuff and go back to the apartment."_

"I tried there before I called the hospital but no one answered."

"_Jim should be back there soon. He was only going to be gone a few minutes."_ Ames covered the phone briefly to speak with someone near him, then returned to the conversation. _"You two try and find Elkins. I'm going to stay here until the end of visiting hours and then join you. Let me know what you find." _

And then he was gone.

Bobby placed the receiver back onto the cradle and quickly gathered his stuff. He had learned early on not to disregard the doctor's words. He always seemed to know what needed to be done and when.

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Mac had been walking the corridors for the past hour. Not only was Caleb plaguing his mind but so was the unfortunate hunt for the Knight. Daniel had displayed tendencies for a lapse of judgment over the years concerning certain hunts; but never to the extreme of disregarding the notion of an innocent.

This had Ames truly worried. The Knight of the Brotherhood's job was to protect others (in the Triad) but most of all protect the innocent. If Elkins was no longer seeing a border between the two, there could very well be a problem. He hoped Daniel wasn't blurring the lines because there was no one to take his place.

"May I help you, sir?"

The question caught Mac off guard. He jerked slightly to his right and noticed he was in the hospital gift shop. He must have wandered in during his musings.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize where I was." Ames smiled softly and noticed a light blush spread upon the young lady's cheeks.

"That's okay." She giggled and quickly turned back to the stack of cards she was arranging in the display.

Mac let his smile linger as he eyed the little shop. It wasn't very big but did seem to have a plethora of diverse items. A shelf to his left caught his eye. It was stocked with several paperback books.

Not the standard of reading he expected in a child's ward, but many of the classics he had read in his youth. There was **Moby Dick**, **Crime and Punishment**, Shakespeare's **Romeo and Juliet**, and one that had Ames immediately reaching out for: **The Three Musketeers**.

Mac remembered when his father had returned from a business trip to France and presented him with a gift. It turned out to be a leather bound copy of Alexandre Dumas's **The Three Musketeers**. At first Mac had been underwhelmed with the book, but his father told him something that day; something that Ames felt fit perfectly with his task at hand.

'_Mackland, my boy, this book isn't about a boy seeking to protect a king, it's about a boy finding a home among men who teach him honor and duty. The one thing all boys strive for in life.'_

Feeling a little triumph for the find, he took the paperback to the counter and quickly purchased it. He didn't know quite how Caleb would react to the reading but he thought he now had a chance.

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"How do you expect us to find him?" Bobby glanced at the man sitting behind the steering wheel. Jim had opened the door of the apartment as Singer walked up, telling him to toss his belongings in the middle of the floor and follow. Bobby had barely gotten into the car before the pastor had peeled out of the parking garage.

"I don't." Jim sighed and stared at the red light. "Not until he wants to be found at least."

Singer nodded his head, knowing Daniel was a man on a mission and was not tolerant of interference (of any kind). "You find out what has him so gung-ho about Reaves?"

Murphy rubbed a hand across his forehead, trying to ease the headache that had emerged when he left Bird's place. The woman had informed him of the unfortunate deaths surrounding Caleb's parents, but what had Jim so anxious was the tie he had found later.

He had left Bird and went back to the penthouse to do some research. Most of it consisted of making phone calls to other Brotherhood members, but after an hour he had put the jigsaw puzzle together and found a picture of pure evil. Jim let his head drop back against the seat, admitting defeat for both the red light and the current situation.

"The short version," because at the moment he hadn't the heart to replay his earlier conversation with Mac, "is this. Caleb great-grandfather Noah Seaver called forth a fire demon. The demon possessed Seaver and in turn impregnated his wife with a possible half-demon child. Seaver was finally destroyed, along with the rest of his followers, but his wife and child escaped. She changed their last names to Reaves to escape any repercussions."

The light changed to green and Jim used the distraction to gather his thoughts and let Bobby absorb the condensed information.

"So, Caleb is..." Bobby let the end of the sentence hang in the air. At the moment he wasn't sure himself what he wanted to say.

"That's what Daniel thinks." The pastor gave Singer a brief glance before returning his gaze to the road. "It appears that the men in the family have a rather tragic tradition they repeat." Murphy paused, taking the time to turn into the parking lot of the local library. It was long shot that Elkins would be hiding out here, but at this point, they were living on long shots.

"Caleb's grandfather killed his wife and then himself. Caleb's father killed his wife and then killed himself, while Caleb watched." Jim parked the car and carefully turned the ignition off. Trying to get the last tidbit of information from sticking in his throat. "My best guess is that Daniel thinks Caleb is demon possessed or part demon and the family tradition has manifested early, in turn causing him to kill his foster parents."

Bobby ran both hands roughly through his hair, trying to picture a demon killer in a twelve-year-old body. He just couldn't do it. "Damn. What if he's right?" Singer turned his full attention to the pastor, pleading with his eyes for him to lie to him and tell him Elkins was all manners of wrong.

Jim looked away from the imploring gaze, hating with everything in him for what he was about to say. "Right now, Bobby, I'm not sure who's right and who's wrong in this situation. I just hope God can help us sort it out in time."

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Mac slowly approached the hall leading to Caleb's room. He let his mind finally analyze what Jim had told him earlier concerning Reaves. He had vehemently denied it, having felt nothing sinister from the youth. Ames snorted. Well, nothing demon anyway. Caleb was anything but an angel. Coming to a stop outside the door, Mac decided to let his instincts lead him on this one, not his head.

Opening the door, he found the room dark, the slow setting of the sun the only glow in the room. He carefully pulled the door shut behind him noticing Caleb had still not moved from his earlier position. Although, he did know the boy was no longer asleep.

"I'm sorry I took so long." Ames went over and reclaimed his seat. He reached out and flipped on the lone lamp, settling back into the chair. "I hope you don't mind, but I found a gift shop that had some excellent books. I bought one and thought I would read it... out loud." Mac waited for some kind of reaction, but he still only got silence. "I'll take that as a yes."

Sliding down into the seat, letting his legs stretch out before him, he opened the Oxford edition and began to read.

"On the first Monday of the month of April, 1625, the small town of Meung, the birthplace of the author of the 'Romance of the Rose', appeared to be in a state of revolution, as complete as if the Huguenots were come to make a second flight of La Rochelle. Many..." and he continued, glancing occasionally toward the bed.

For about three hours he read, slightly surprised when around chapter 2, Caleb turned toward him and actually watched him as he read. Mac felt a triumph equaled to the day he learned to walk again. He was about to delve into chapter 4 when the nurse pushed open the door and interrupted him.

"Excuse me, sir. I didn't mean to intrude, but I have Mr. Reaves supper." She rolled a cart only big enough for a TV tray into the room, placing it in front of Caleb. "I'll be back in about 15 minutes to retrieve it," and she was gone.

Ames turned the page down and laid the book beside the lamp. "I guess that would be my cue to go." He glanced at his watch and realized visiting hours were almost over. He had hoped to use the book to get Reaves to talk to him, but Mac would settle for Caleb listening to him for the time being. "You need anything before I go."

Mac stood up and stretched, popping his back and other bones. He heard the soft giggle but chose to ignore it. "In that case, I'll see you tomorrow." Ames reached out to take the book, but saw Caleb jerk at the motion, then resume eating.

Instead of picking up the book, he pushed it closer to the deck of cards he had seen Reaves playing with when he arrived this morning. He hoped this would be understood as a gift for Caleb. "If you need anything before I get back, just have them call me."

Turning without waiting for a reply, Mac exited quickly, missing the look of longing that crossed Caleb's face.

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The night had hid the Knight well. Bobby and Jim had searched the library thoroughly to the chagrin of the library's director. They had went so far as to search the dark recesses of the basement and found nothing.

Mac had joined the search when he'd left the children's center, covering those places opposite to Jim and Bobby. His efforts had proven fruitless. It was now well into mid-morning and all three men sat dejected around Ames's living room, hoping for a miracle.

"Any ideas?" Singer raised his head from its reclining position, glancing first at Jim and then Mac. Both gave slight nods in the negative. Bobby let his head bounce back onto the cushion. "We're screwed."

Murphy was almost ready to agree when he mentally shook himself. "We must not forget that Daniel is the Knight. He would not endanger Caleb unless there was no other choice." Jim jumped from the couch and began pacing the room. "He has to have a plan. He would not just kill Caleb without any thought." The pastor stopped and took in both men now staring at him. "I know this man... have known him for a few years. He was chosen as the Knight for a reason. I will not believe he will harm Caleb without absolute proof."

Jim watched both men struggle with his words, knowing the doubts had steadily crept into their hearts throughout the night. "We still have to believe he will do the right thing."

Bobby sat up and nodded his head. He had worked with Daniel three or four times in the past and had no doubts about the man's abilities or loyalty. "I agree." Singer also stood, coming to stand next to Jim. "He'll do the right thing."

Mac's gaze fell to the floor before coming to rest on Murphy's. He had listened to them and understood their belief, but a small part of Ames was screaming at him to protect Caleb at all costs. "Until I see otherwise, I'll accept that." He too stood, "but until he's found and I know his true intentions, I'm going to stay with Caleb."

Mac walked around the two men and headed toward the hall closet. A light snow fall had begun during the night and was expected to become a small blizzard by nightfall. He reached in and grabbed his overcoat before turning to Bobby and Jim once more. "I'll be at the center if you find out anything."

He exited the apartment and twin sighs of relief followed him out.

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As Mac entered the children's center, he shook off the flakes of snow that had attached themselves to his coat during his walk from the parking lot. He had underestimated the weather man's predictions. He usually passed Bob Wasserman ,WNKD's weatherman, off as a idiot, but it seemed he may have misjudged the man.

A storm was definitely brewing.

Finally removing his jacket and placing it over his arm, he began the walk to Caleb's room. A lack of people roaming the hallways immediately caught his attention. The usual employees were no where to be found and the halls were echoing hollow with his footsteps.

His hunter instincts were coming online when the gift shop lady came into view from the around the corner. He began to relax as he realized she was not nervous or fearful in any way. She glanced up just before she was about to disappear down the next corridor, caught sight of Mac and smiled. Ames returned the shy grin and shrugged off the sense of foreboding that was trying to take hold.

Mac continued his journey with a little less trepidation. As he reached the nurse's station for Caleb's section, he saw the nurse who had delivered Reaves dinner last night. He was slightly curious why she would be at her post near noon when he rarely saw her before the end of visiting hours.

"Is there a strike I missed?" Mac let the charm ooze as he inquired to the lack of staff. The bored looking lady was apparently unaffected.

"No."

Nothing more was forthcoming, so he changed tactics. "Is there a problem with the hospital?" His voice had taken on the tone he used when lecturing interns.

She quickly came to attention. "No sir. The storm has prevented the normal shifts from reporting to duty. The head administrator called in the night shift and let the rest stay home." She tried to smile after her reply, but Ames was past caring about the woman's reaction to him.

"How many are currently on staff?"

"Ten."

Satisfied there would be adequate coverage for the remainder of patients at the center, Mac moved on past the station, not stopping until he was outside Caleb's door. He gently knocked and waited, hoping Reaves would reply.

"Come in." The response was curt but welcoming.

Ames entered and noticed two things at once. Caleb was sitting up on the edge of the bed; and he had quickly and carelessly tossed the gift shop book onto the lamp stand. Mac was impressed the youth had latched onto the book after he'd left.

"Sorry I'm late." The doctor laid his coat over the bed railing and took his normal place on the chair opposite Caleb. "I had some business with Jim and Bobby, whom you haven't had the pleasure of meeting... yet." Ames let a brief smile touch his lips at the thought of the two getting acquainted.

"I figured you wouldn't show." Caleb pushed himself back onto the bed, letting his back rest against the wall.

Mac held the sigh attempting to escape him. The small victory from yesterday had apparently been short and sweet. "If there's one thing you learn about me, I hope it's this. I always do what I say, unless dead or detained." He held Reaves's gaze, imploring the boy to realize he was being honest with him.

Caleb let his eyes lock and linger on the gray orbs staring at him. He remembered when his mind had touched the doctor's before they had ever met and suddenly felt a growing trust bloom in him. If his subconscious had sought this man out and trusted him, then maybe his conscious should follow suit.

"We'll see." His attitude refused to let Ames know his decision.

A short chuckle escaped Mac. He had read the thoughts running across Caleb's face as easy as if he had been reading the book. "Good enough." He reached over and grabbed the discarded **Musketeers**. As he opened it, an object fell out.

Reaves quickly leaned forward to get the article, but Mac beat him too it. As he raised it to eye level, he saw it was a card from Caleb's deck. However, it was the particular card he held that had him puzzled. As he started to ask Caleb about it, he was suddenly thrust into another world.

_Six-year-old Caleb Reaves watched as his father carefully laid the last card on top of their three story house of cards._ _"So, what do you think, Son?" Isaac Reaves glanced over to his little boy, a twinkle in his green eyes. "Is it worth a million dollars?" _

"_Maybe five million," a soft voice said from the doorway and both Reaves men looked towards the light coming from the adjoining room. _

Mac felt himself inhale sharply as the woman came into focus.

_Amelia Reaves crossed the room to kneel beside her husband and peer inside the little compartments. She pulled the little boy onto her lap, his back against her chest. "You realize that you and your father have forgotten the most important thing about houses?" She sing-songed, leaning her head forward, so she could kiss Caleb's ear. "Where's the family, ioio?" _

_The six-year-old reached over and pulled a pile of cards closer to him and started to go through them._

Another gasp roughly escaped Ames as the scene played out.

_Isaac smiled at his wife as their son presented her with the Queen of Hearts. "Mommy." He then gave his father the King of Hearts. "Daddy." After a few seconds he pulled a Jack of Spades free and held it up proudly. "And Me."_

_Amelia beamed. "But, you're forgetting one." _

Mac tried to put an end to the pictures.

_Isaac reached over his son, digging through the cards until he found what he was looking for and handed it to Caleb. _

"_Are we getting a dog?" _

_Isaac laughed at his son's quickness and Amelia reached out and punched him on the shoulder. "Something better," she said in mock sternness. _

"_What is it?" Caleb asked._

"_Why, it's the Deuce of Spades," Isaac proclaimed, drawing out the suspense. _

_The little boy looked at the card again and his frown deepened. "Why this one, Daddy?" _

"_Because it's the wild card, son." The little boy glanced up at his father who winked at him and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "And Mommy doesn't know yet if she's having a boy or a girl." _

The card finally relinquished its grasp on Mac and he let it fall once more to the floor. He had never experienced such a vivid vision and that's exactly what it had been. He grabbed his head in his hands, realizing belatedly they were shaking.

As he tried to get his emotions under control, he felt a slight touch to his shoulder. Slowly he raised his head and saw Caleb standing next to him with his fingers laying against his arm. The rawness in the boy's eyes had Mac feeling the scene all over again. It was then he understood why it had been so strong.

"I'm sorry, son." Ames let his hand reach up and tap Caleb's hand.

"You saw." Reaves stepped back, his hand dropping to his side.

Mac glanced at the snow falling outside the window and then at Caleb. "Yes."

"I never found out." Caleb picked up the Deuce of Spades and tucked it back into the book.

For the second time in his life, Mackland was struck speechless. He had no idea what to say to such heartbreak. Reaves had lost so much in his short life and at that moment, Ames vowed he wouldn't let him lose anymore.

"How would you like me to read to you?" Taking up the book again, getting Caleb to take the card out, he found Reaves had managed to get to chapter 8 on his own and was doubly impressed. His attachment to Caleb was growing.

"Sure." Settling back onto the bed, the youth gave the card a closer inspection. He was still amazed at the doctor's gift, wishing for a moment he could have seen what he had. "What **did** you see?" Reaves raised his eyes to meet Mac's.

Ames read the longing in the gaze and knew what needed to be said. "You... happy."

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TBC...

I would like to pay a special thanks to my pard, Ridley. She wrote the beach scene in italics, which I tweaked from its original version (sorry pard), to fit into this scene. THANKS!!


	9. Home

_See Part 1 for disclaimer..._

**A/N: **I am going to offer up my deepest apologies and ask (oh so humbly) for your forgiveness. I have undergone an extreme change over the past few months. New job, new home, 250 miles away from where I was and for someone so terrified of change... you can imagine the emotional and mental toil it has taken. But, after a Friday that will forever stick with me, I have returned to the story and finished it... or at least completed the beginning. g I hope everyone gives thanks this holiday season for all the blessings we have in this world and the people around us. Without further adieu...

**A/N/N: **All mistakes are mine.

* * *

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_The blink of an eye or_

_the flap of a butterfly's wing _

_can change your world. _

_-_**Williamson M. Scott**

He glanced around the room once more. His labors for the past few hours showed. The candles had burned half way down and the Devil's Trap was drawn across the floor. Daniel rechecked the drawing, making sure he had all the details correct. It wouldn't pay to make a mistake if he wanted to live.

The Knight strode to the boiler room door, stopping beside the fuse box located there.

"It's now or never." Elkins flipped the main switch on the power grid and watched the lights blink out around him. The only illumination left was the candle glow casting his shadow against the door.

He pulled the Magnum flashlight from his pocket, flipped it on, and left the room in search of his next assignment.

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Mac had periodically checked the growing snowstorm outside the window. His worry of possibly being trapped at the Center grew with each passing minute. Caleb must have picked up on his anxiety when he slid forward on the bed and placed his hand on the doctor's arm.

"What's wrong?" The youth's true concern was reflected in his intense gaze.

Ames smiled, trying to quash the fear he seemed to be radiating. "Just thinking about having to dig my way out of this place if the snow continues."

A flash of anger crossed Reaves's face and he snatched his hand away as if it had been burned.

"You're lying."

Mac knew he had made a huge error just then. He wanted Caleb to trust him but he had just blatantly lied to the youth, ineffectually. He put the book on the table and leaned forward quickly, grabbing onto Caleb's retreating hand.

"I'm sorry." Holding tight to the hand, he pulled Reaves toward him until they were inches apart. "I am worried about the snow, but that's not the real problem." Ames watched the tension leave Caleb and mentally sighed in relief. The kid was giving him another chance. "Look. There's this man..." , the lights shut off at that moment, causing Mac to stop abruptly. "What the..."

Ames pulled himself and Caleb up and went to the door. Pushing Reaves slightly behind him, he peeked out through the small window and checked up and down the hallway. Seeing no one didn't make his instincts feel any better.

He turned around and took Caleb by his shoulders. "Okay. I want you to listen to me very carefully." Mac calmed his breathing, seeing his fear was effecting Caleb. "It's going to be fine. I just need you to stay in this room and not let anyone in unless it's me. Understand?"

Caleb searched the older man's eyes for some sign of untruth, but got none. Reaves nodded his head in affirmation and shyly reached up, patting Ames on the chest. "Don't worry."

An unexpected snort escaped the doctor when he saw the cocky gleam enter Caleb's eyes. He shook his head and in an uncharacteristic move, drew Reaves into a quick hug and then disappeared out the door.

Caleb stood for a moment in slight shock. The last time he could remember someone display outward affection for him was his grandmother. Sure, Bird had tried, but Reaves never let her come close. Now, he had just let a man he'd known for less than a week give him an order and a hug. And the thing that amazed him most was he didn't mind either one.

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Elkins ducked into the broom closet quickly. His flashlight had caught a movement near the end of the hall. He didn't want to take any chances of being spotted, so doused the light and ducked.

He waited patiently, watching the hallway through the slight crack he'd made between the door and door jam. He was soon rewarded as a tall man passed. He felt he knew the man but didn't pause long enough to ponder the thought. His goal was near and he was running out of time.

Stopping once to make sure the man had continued on, he came to a halt outside his destination. He listened closely, trying to hear any movement from the other side. Hearing none, he proceeded forward with his plan.

He clicked off the light, placing it in the cargo pocket of his fatigue pants. He then took a small bottle out of his left hand jacket pocket, pulling a cloth from the right hand pocket and then after opening the vial, placed a small amount on the handkerchief. Securing the lid back on the bottle, he pulled the orderly's keys from his pants pocket, inserted the marked key, and slowly pushed open the door.

Elkins wasn't prepared for the body that came flying at him. Reacting with a speed honed over years of hunting, he caught the slight figure around the waist with one arm and placed the doctored cloth over the youth's mouth with his right hand.

Caleb struggled to get free from the tight hold, especially from the smell that was wafting into his mouth and nose. Kicking back and forth, feeling himself make contact a few times, didn't seem to have an effect on his captor. He began to feel his efforts slow, as if his body was betraying him. He tried to strike out a couple more times, but his legs failed to move and he noticed his eyelids sliding shut. 'Help me, Mac' was his last thought as the darkness took control.

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Mac felt nothing but frustration. Every person he found in the facility didn't know anything, except the obvious... the lights were off. One helpful individual had at least found him a flashlight. He had searched the corridors but found no one lurking, but that had not eased his suspicion of foul play. He had checked the phone line at the nurse's station and was rewarded with dead air. It was at that moment he knew the Knight had come calling.

'Help me, Mac..."

The frantic whisper exploded in his head as he stared at the useless phone. Knowing instantly the voice and the plea, he turned and sped through the hallways at a reckless run. The glow from the flashlight bounced wildly on the walls, making the empty corridors more apparent. As Mac slid to a stop in front of Caleb's open door, his heart fell to his feet.

"Okay, think Ames, think." Mac slid a shaky hand through his hair and took two slow, deep breaths. "Where would Daniel take him?" Ames blinked a few times, focusing his vision and the flashlight beam on the empty room. He saw nothing except the things he expected to find.

The book lay discarded on the bed. Nothing was disturbed which was disturbing in itself. One thing Mac knew for certain was Caleb was a fighter and he would have fought if given the chance. The doctor's heart skipped a beat as the implications of that thought took hold.

"Calm down. This isn't helping." Closing his eyes, Mac tried the only link he had left to the youth. Opening his mind, he reached out for Reaves, hoping his will to find him would push Caleb into contacting him again.

After few seconds of resounding silence, Ames's fear meter spiked. The only conclusion that made sense was Caleb unconscious. It meant Mac had even less to go on and time was against him. If he knew Daniel, and he was pretty sure he did, the Knight would not waste any moment to concluding his duty. He would make Caleb's exorcism or death clean and private. No witnesses.

As if the building could hear Mac's thoughts, a deep rumble under his feet caused the doctor's eyes to fly open and he glanced down. Not understanding at first, the floor gave another vibrant shake and caused Mac to stumble.

"Of course..." Ames instantly knew what was happening and where. He could only hope he would be in time to prevent losing someone he couldn't imagine living without.

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1 "_Ab omni hoste visibili et invisibili et ubíque in hoc sáeculo liberetur,_" resounded throughout the small boiler room. It was the first thing Caleb recalled as he became fully aware. The next thing that struck him was he was sprawled on the floor surrounded by candles and a strange man was standing over him.

He tried to open his mouth to yell at the man, but another round of gibberish seemed to strike excruciating pain in every cell of his body. Instead of yelling out an obscenity, a scream of unholy terror exited through his lips.

His whole being felt as if it was being torn apart. He wanted it to stop.

"Pleasssssssseeeeeeee..." the broken whisper didn't seem to affect his captor. The chant continued as did the building fire in his blood.

2"_Ut num quam lædatur amorsu antiqui serpentes,_" Daniel moved forward, careful not to breach the Devil's Trap, and tried to gage if the ceremony was working. The child had not reacted to the holy water nor to the placing of a cross on his forehead. Elkins was beginning to think Reaves wasn't possessed but a true demon.

When Caleb had awoken and could not move from the circle, it did give Daniel some semblance of proof there was demonic existence. However, the exorcism seemed only to be causing Reaves pain and that was all.

Stepping back from the trap, Elkins looked down at the book and began the chant again. If the exorcism did not work, the only alternative was to kill the youth. After the many years of hunting, he had never taken the life of one so young. He hoped not to start now.

As his mouth opened to read the Latin, a blur of movement blind sided the Knight, knocking him down. Daniel felt the book slide from his hands, but before he could reach out for it, a solid punch connected with his jaw.

His last thought before losing consciousness was he had failed.

Mac waited a few seconds before pushing himself off of Elkins body. When he had busted the door to the boiler room open, the sight of Caleb writhing in the middle of the floor had sent him into a rage like he had never felt in his life. His only inclination was to stop whomever was causing the boy pain. The sight of Daniel not far from Caleb gave Mac an outlet for his plan.

Making sure the Knight was completely incapacitated after the assault, Mac turned to Reaves and almost fainted. Caleb had stopped moving... completely. His chest was still and his eyes were closed.

"No!" Ames jumped forward, knocking the candles and salt out of his way. He placed his ear against Caleb's chest and heard a slow but steady beat. Going immediately to the Caleb's head, he leaned it back and began resuscitating breaths. After the fourth breath, he was rewarded with a sound he would never forget... a cough. Then another followed.

Mac leaned back on his heels, raking a very shaky hand through his hair. "That's it, my boy, breathe."

A couple more coughs and then Reaves's eyelids blinked open. Caleb didn't look anywhere but at the one person he had thought to never see again. "What took...(cough)...you...(cough)...so long?"

Ames laughed and laughed, then tears fell from his eyes. He'd almost lost this young man. A kid who had attitude Genghis Kahn would be impressed with but someone Mac knew he would fight to the death to defend.

"I ran into the cute gift shop attendant. Sorry." It was at that moment Mac was given the best gift he could have ever hoped to receive.

Caleb smiled.

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_Two days later..._

"Mr. Reaves," Judge Maria Baker glanced at the youth facing her for the second time in less than two weeks. "I have reviewed Mr. Ames's request for legal guardianship and frankly, I'm inclined to let it happen. Would you have any objections?" She waited for the explosion she was sure to occur.

Caleb stared at the judge before looking behind him at Bird. He and the elderly lady had discussed this very outcome the day before and he had been surprised by Bird's reaction. She had told him to go. She wanted him to be happy and safe, both she felt Mackland Ames could make possible. Her smile just now made him believe she still held the same conviction as she did yesterday.

He then let his eyes drift to Jim Murphy, who sat next to Bird. The pastor had showed up about an hour after Mac had rescued him from the boiler room. Ames had taken Caleb straight to his room after their brief exchange of words and refused to tell him anything about what happened or who the crazy man had been. So when Jim showed up, Mac took him outside the room and Caleb didn't see him again until the next morning.

Reaves still questioned both men, but the only answer Ames would give him was 'I'll tell you soon, I promise'. Somehow, Caleb believed him and let it go.

Jim looked at him and gave a slight smile of encouragement, but a sadness lurked in his eyes causing Reaves to frown slightly. He wanted to ask what was wrong, but a hand fell lightly on his shoulder shaking him out of his quandary.

He turned his gaze to meet the one man that he still couldn't understand. A doctor, definitely rich, single and with his whole life ahead of him wanted Caleb. A kid who had nothing but bad following him around. A kid who had, in his mind, caused his parents death, his grandmother's death and those of his foster parents.

He had said this many times to the stubborn doctor, but the only response he had received was nothing was his fault. A slight snort escaped before Reaves could stop it.

"Is that a no?" Ames raised an eyebrow, wondering if he had misread Caleb's wanting to live with him.

Caleb shook his head no. "I was thinking about something else." Mac nodded, reassured once more.

Caleb turned back to the judge, surprised to see her smiling. "I don't have a problem with it, your honor." Reaves suddenly gave Mac a mischievous smirk.

"He might in a few months...

"Hey...hey..." the slight punches to his arm had Caleb shaking his head from the memories of that fateful day over a year ago. His walk down memory lane had been triggered the moment they sat the cake down in front of him.

His 14th birthday. Hell, if he was honest with himself, he'd thought he'd never make it to 13, but he did and the slight punch on the arm made him glad he did.

"Look, Deuce, knock it off." Caleb gave the 5 year old tow-headed boy to his left a slight glare. Dean Winchester had appeared in his life about 6 months ago, along with the boy's father and baby brother.

The boy had been quiet and way too old for his age when Caleb met him. It took Reaves many, many tries just to get the boy to talk to him.

But now, if the returned glare was any indication, he had formed a strong bond with the kid.

"You need to blow out your candles." Dean pointed to the 14 candles burning atop the chocolate iced cake.

"Fine." Caleb started to blow but Dean placed a hand over his mouth. Reaves quickly jerked back and raised an eyebrow at the kid.

"You have to make a wish first."

A small cooing sound diverted Dean's attention to the high chair at his left. Sammy Winchester was watching both boys with extreme interest. Well, as much as a 16 month old could.

Seeing that Sam was fine, Dean turned back to Caleb. "It's not real if'n you don't make a wish." The solemn tone caused Caleb's heart to ache. He still had vague memories of his birthdays before his parents' death.

"You're right, kid." Reaves reached out and tousled Dean's hair, causing a glare to adorn the face once more.

Slight snickers caught Caleb's attention. He turned and found three men gathered around the table to his right. Jim stood with his arms crossed, as if waiting for something to happen, but Caleb didn't yet know what.

To Murphy's right was the newest addition to the Brotherhood, John Winchester. The hardened lines around the ex-Marine's eyes spoke volumes to Caleb as to what the man had been through, even if his dad hadn't already told him. John gave Reaves an attempt at a smile, but it quickly vanished behind the stoic scowl.

It was the man to Winchester's right that sparked the most emotion from Caleb. His dad, Mackland Ames. His dad. Even now, after 6 months since the official adoption, he was in shock and awe. After that day in court where Mac had been granted legal guardianship, Reaves was sure it would only be temporary.

Over a year later and his second birthday with the man, it was real and there was nothing that Caleb could wish for to make his life better than at this moment.

Caleb turned back to Dean and saw the anxiousness in the boy's face as he watched the candles burn lower.

"Hey Deuce, you take my wish." Caleb heard the room become void of sound as each person looked at him, even baby Sammy.

"What?" The whisper would have been difficult to hear except Caleb had been watching no one but Dean.

"I said, you can have my wish." Reaves gave Mac a sideways glance, before returning his full focus to Dean. "I don't need it and want you to have it. But..."

Reaves saw the hope that had been slowly creeping into Dean's eyes disappear.

"You have to wish for you, Deuce."

"Uh?" Dean's face screwed up in a frown, not understanding what the older boy said.

"You can't make the wish for somebody else. You have to wish for something that you want." Caleb leaned closer. "Understand?"

The kid glanced down at the table, then toward Sammy before looking once more at Caleb. Reaves could tell Dean knew exactly what he wanted.

The boy Winchester nodded his head, closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, and then blew all 14 candles out. Sammy began clapping, chanting 'De, De' over and over again.

Caleb smiled. He started to reach for the knife to cut the cake when he felt eyes staring at him. Looking up, he caught Mac frowning at him. Reaves had no idea what could be going through the man's head, but was saved from pondering too long.

"Why?" Ames asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt the activity going on around them.

The teen leaned back in his seat, trying to find the right words to explain to his dad what he was feeling. While thinking, something strange happened as Caleb stared at the three men to his right. Gone briefly were three very different modern men and in their place were uniformed Musketeers, regal and steadfast against any that wished to cause harm. It was at that moment the perfect description of Caleb's life and future came to him and he shared the words of wisdom with all around him.

"All for one and one for all."

_THE END..._

1- From every enemy both visible and invisible and everywhere in this lifetime be freed

2- Be cast out and driven away from your creature


End file.
